Gravity
by Mayarin
Summary: Spot Conlon's first encounter with Kate was decidedly not what he thought it would be... But as we all know, you can't judge a book by it's cover.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

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><p>The summer sun hung lazily above Brooklyn, beating down and creating a heat so oppressive not a soul in the city dared move. Sluggish Brooklyn newsies were scattered across the docks, trying to escape the persistent heat of the city. Spot Conlon sat perched on a pile of empty crates, scanning the boardwalk for people unknown to him; unnecessary really, because in his city, no one was unknown to the fearless leader of the Brooklyn Newsies. The boys wearily raised themselves from their positions. It was time for them to make their way to the distribution center to begin the toil of their day once more.<p>

Young boys wearing frayed and tattered clothes lined up to buy their afternoon papers. Spot was the last to arrive at the distribution center, casually watching as the boys filed one by one to get their papers. He could see the desperation on their faces as the sun bore down unceasingly on the city, scorching everything in sight. After all the boys had purchased their papers, Spot made his purchase and headed to Fulton Street to begin the long afternoon ahead of him.

Quickly glancing at the headlines, uneventful as they were, Spot noted that a considerably wealthy man from South Carolina had recently moved to Manhattan in the hopes of expanding his steel business. "Richest Man in New York!" heralded the article, complete with bold lettering and false enthusiasm. The article pondered where the man and his privileged family would live and what sort of fashion they would bring to the city. The article explained that it did not have a picture of the family, as they were the private sort, but showed the mansion where they would be living in Manhattan. Spot quickly turned the page, losing patience for the pettiness of the wealthy, and found a promising story about an old woman who was robbed outside of a grocery store. "Woman found dead outside of family store, murderer at large!" he yelled through the streets. The inventive headline was enough to catch the eye of a few passersby, and within a few hours all his papers had been purchased.

Spot decided to escape the heat of the tar-lined streets and made his way towards Prospect Park. Being the most recognizable figure in Brooklyn, Spot had a habit of always being alert to everything around him, but today the unnatural heat caught him off-guard. A familiar man in blue approached him from the left and grabbed him roughly by the arms.

"Well if it ain't my old pal, Spot Conlon. Thought you got away from me, did ya?" the officer said, an arrogant lilt in his voice. "Ya know I don't appreciate little snots like you running around this city like ya own da place. That newsie of yours robbed one of my officers and a slippery little rescue like that will land you in the refuge Conlon."

"Bite me, Bailey. Yeh can't prove nothin'," Spot said venomously.

Although he maintained his calm demeanor, Spot couldn't think of an escape plan. His learned art of persuasion would certainly not get him out of this mess, and attacking a police officer in plain daylight would attract too much attention. Desperately racking his brains for a way out, Spot was suddenly confronted with a rush of navy blue, effectively stopping him and the officer in their tracks. Getting his bearings, Spot noticed it was a beautiful young woman with honey colored hair and chestnut eyes who had stopped the two, and she looked angry to say the least.

"So here you are – Do you care to tell me what you've been doing to land yourself with a police officer?" the well-dressed young woman said, addressing Spot and raising her eyebrows as if she already knew what was going to come out of his mouth.

No one addressed Spot Conlon like a child, and certainly not a hoity-toity girl like this one. Just as he was about to give her the what-for, she turned away and addressed his companion.

"Thank you for finding him officer, God knows what would have happened to him if you hadn't been there," she said sweetly to the officer and giving him a glowing smile.

The officer couldn't help but be flattered by her attention. "I was just doing my job, miss," he said proudly, straightening himself and loosening his grip on Spot.

"And thank goodness for people like you. Well, we best be off now," she said, grabbing Spot's wrist and yanking him in the opposite direction, ignoring the livid look on his face.

"Wait just a minute Miss. Do you mean to tell me that you know this kid?" the officer asked, confused as to why an obviously well-off young woman would risk her neck for a street rat like Spot Conlon.

"Of course I know him, officer, he's my cousin. Can't you see the resemblance?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows again, as if he was foolish to even ask the question.

The officer stood looking at the two, not sure if he could see the resemblance, but desperately wanting to believe the young woman.

"Is that all, or may we go now?" she said, with more than a hint of impatience in her voice. She waited a moment for the officer to reply and when he didn't, she turned away brusquely and began to lead Spot away.

"But miss, that's Spot Conlon. Don't you know that he's a –"

"A what, officer?" she challenged, whipping around and staring the officer down.

The officer wasn't sure how far he should go. He desperately wanted to have a hold on Spot Conlon, but didn't want to risk the wrath of his supervisors in case the girl's family knew the Chief. "Never mind, miss. Have a good afternoon," the officer said, eyeing the pair suspiciously.

"That's what I thought," she said with finality, grabbing Spot's arm and pulling him away from the scene. Spot was furious that this girl had humiliated him by treating him like a child. He didn't need anyone to rescue him; he'd gotten out of stickier situations on his own.

"Don't go on pouting, I just saved your behind, you know," the girl said, staring straight ahead as the two walked towards downtown Brooklyn.

"I don' need yeh ta save my behind, I coulda dealt wit 'im meself," he said, his eyes narrowing.

"It sure didn't look like it," she said with a smirk on her face. "Relax, no one saw you get saved by a girl."

Her last remark just about threw Spot over the edge. He turned and looked straight at her, ready to tell her off. Just as he was readying his weapons, she released his arm and said softly, "Goodbye, Spot Conlon," smiling as she walked away into the crowd that had gathered for a boxing match. Spot sat dumbstruck for a few moments, watching her get lost in the crowd and wondering who exactly she was.

Spot began his walk back to the Lodging House. "Good riddance," he thought. "I don' need anyone doin' me any favahs." But for the rest of the walk home he couldn't stop thinking about that honey colored hair.

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><p>After a long day of walking the streets between Manhattan and Brooklyn, Kate arrived home with her hair in disarray, having ruined her curls by putting her hair in a loose bun, desperate to get the sweaty strands off her face. She opened the door to the mansion quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone, thinking particularly of her aunt and cousin.<p>

Gingerly stepping over the threshold, Kate walked softly in the direction of her bedroom. Just as she was about to reach her destination, she heard a familiar shrill voice behind her.

"Where have you been all day? Carrie and I have been working our fingers to the bone straightening this house up for the Morgans to visit, and here you come waltzing in like a princess," her Aunt Clara snapped, her body tense and ready to strike.

Kate smiled to herself, knowing that her aunt would never have lifted a finger to clean the mansion with all her servants around. She turned around slowly to face the voice that haunted the hallways. "First of all, Aunt Clara, I certainly don't waltz, and secondly, I left because I have no interest in kissing up to anyone," Kate retorted, impatience and anger in her voice as she slowly turned away from her aunt.

"Oh, is that so, girl?" her aunt said threateningly, moving closer and seizing Kate's upper arm with an iron grip. Kate winced at her unexpected strength. She looked at Kate as if she were a household pest she had to restrain herself from crushing, her eyes narrowing the more she looked at the girl. "I want you to know that I regret the day John ever brought you home. You have been nothing but a nuisance around here, strutting around like you own the place and contributing nothing" she said, the venom seeping out of her voice like a crushed grape. "Some day John won't be around here to protect you, and you'll learn your lesson."

Kate stared at her aunt with hollow eyes, numb to the same threat she had heard so many times before.

"For your sake, I sure hope you're right, Aunt Clara. Now if you'll excuse me, I would like to be alone."

Clara Abbott gave the girl one last deadly look as she viciously released her arm and stormed off down the hallway, the click of her heels echoing down the silent staircase.

Thankful to be free of her aunt's glare, Kate entered her room and threw herself onto the bed. How much longer was she going to tolerate Clara's threats? She never asked for this life, yet she could never deny the happiness she felt when she was with her father. Was his love worth her aunt's hatred?

Yes, it undoubtedly was.

A tap on the door startled Kate out of her reverie.

"Miss Abbott, would you have your tea now?" the familiar voice of Emmalee called through door.

"Please come in Emmalee, tea is just what I need," Kate invited, smiling as the humble girl stepped through the doorway. "And please, call me Kate."

Emmalee smiled shyly, knowing she could never call the girl by her given name. Fully looking at the girl, she noticed something was off.

"Are you all right Miss Abbott? You don't look well," Emmalee said, setting the tea tray down on the desk and pouring a cup for the girl from the delicate china the family collected. Kate smirked at Emmalee's insistence on formality.

"Oh, I'm all right Emmalee, the sun just got to me is all," Kate invented; trying to convince herself it was true.

"You really should be careful Miss Abbott, the sun here is not like it is in South Carolina," Emmalee continued on, busying herself with the tea. "Here, the sun bakes into the streets and won't let go until night time. You'd swear we were living on a bed of coals the way it gets sometimes," she continued, seeming to like the way her voice sounded out loud. Kate quickly became lost in her thoughts and came back to the boy she had helped today. Why had she done it? Even she didn't know; by all means, she should have left him and the officer to sort out their problems. But she saw something in his hard, gray eyes that reminded her of herself.

"Miss Abbott, are you sure you're feeling alright?" said Emmalee's voice, interrupting Kate's thoughts once more. Kate turned to face the concerned girl and forced a smile.

"Yes Emmalee, but if you don't mind, I think I am going to lie down for a moment. The heat does seem to have affected me," Kate offered, suddenly desperate to be alone again.

"Very well Miss Abbott, you just let me know if you need anything," Emmalee said, rising to gather the tea tray and eyeing the girl with suspicion.

"Thank you Emmalee, I will," Kate said, relieved to be released from her obligation of conversation. She lay down in her feather bed and tried to sleep, but her thoughts would not slumber.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

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><p>It had been a week since the incident in the park, and Spot was back to his normal self. The day he returned from his venture in the park, his second-in-command, West, noticed that something was off. Spot had a continuous scowl on his face, and although it was not unusual, his leader's silence certainly was. For as long as West could remember, Spot Conlon had always been loud and brash, but that day he sat scowling and silent, clearly occupied in thinking about something. West was unnerved by Spot's behavior; he had never acted like that in as long as he had been living in Brooklyn. When Spot finally went back to his boisterous and arrogant self, West figured whatever had been bothering him must have been a fluke and didn't think about his strange behavior for a second more.<p>

But tonight, all of Brooklyn was abuzz, including Spot. Queens was throwing another of their infamous parties and the boys were anxious to attend. Brooklyn and Queens didn't always get along, but that was what made the parties such fun. No one ever knew if they would witness an epic fight between any of the New York boroughs or if the night would end without event. These parties were not for the faint of heart; many unsavory and otherwise illegal activities would go on throughout the course of the night. Spot particularly liked going to these events because there were plenty of girls for him to choose his entertainment from. Girls of a dubious reputation from all boroughs would attend the parties and he knew that many of them only showed up to catch a glimpse of the famed Spot Conlon. The other boys would generally eye him enviously while all the girls at the party threw themselves at the leader of Brooklyn, and he would choose a lucky girl to spend the evening with. It had always been the same since everyone could remember, but somehow Spot never ran out of a supply of giggling followers.

Spot grabbed his cane and walked casually down the stairs of the Lodging House to address his boys.

"All right, let's get a move on," he said simply and walked out of the Lodging House door with dozens of Brooklyn newsies following him.

The night was cool yet full of electric energy. The boys walked slowly towards Queens, talking with each other and discussing their devious plans for the evening. Spot walked silently with West ahead of the others, surveying everyone's mood.

With great anticipation, they arrived at the Queens lodging house. The lodging house was dilapidated even by Brooklyn standards, and it was clear a broom had not been present in years. The grubby environment failed to deter the partygoers. Jack Kelly and certain Manhattan newsies had already arrived and walked over to greet their Brooklyn brothers.

"Heya Spot," Jack said with a smirk on his face as they spit-shook. "Didn' think yeh'd show tonight wit all dose bulls on yer back watchin' yer every move."

"Yeah, and when has dat evah stopped me?" Spot asked distractedly, scanning the room.

He had already picked out a couple of candidates for the night when he saw her. He could have recognized that honey colored hair anywhere, but her outfit certainly did nothing to hide her. Whereas when he had first met her she was wearing a conservative dress typical of the upper class, tonight she was wearing a black dress with a plunging neckline that caught the eye of everyone in the room.

She was sitting and laughing with a group of girls familiar to him; a couple of them had even been his entertainment for the night in years past. For a moment he almost didn't believe it was her; he couldn't comprehend why she would be friendly with such a lewd and ignominious group of people. After further examination, he had to admit that she was the same well-dressed girl who had saved him from the Refuge. As he continued to watch her, she began laughing with one of her group and he was surprised by how it affected him; it was the kind of sincere laugh one rarely encounters, and it suited her.

She obviously had not noticed him, and he wanted to make sure it stayed that way. He wanted to stay in control of the situation and wasn't sure he could if she knew he was there. He was still fuming over what had happened in the park a week ago, and he didn't want to give her another opportunity to humiliate him again. The control and strategy she had used that day in the park unnerved him; he had never expected such a thing to happen to him, much less from an upper class girl. Not that Spot worried about being of a lower class – he could get any girl he wanted with the tricks he knew; but for her to do something so unprovoked and not ask for anything in return made him nervous, so he kept an eye on her while staying out of her line of sight.

"So Jacky-boy, what's goin' on in Manhattan?" he asked, not really interested in hearing the answer, but looking for a way to distract himself from that laugh.

"Ah, not much really, da boys are gettin' antsy. I keep tellin' them they got spoiled from da strike, now dey wanna be doin' somethin' all the time, the more dangerous the bettah," he explained to Spot. After Spot hadn't replied for a few moments, Jack turned and noticed his friend's inattention.

"Hey Spot, what's the mattah? Yeh got yer eye on someone already?" he asked, turning around to survey the room.

"Nah, it's nothin'," he replied nonchalantly. "Let's go get somethin' ta drink."

Out of the corner of his eye, Spot saw a Queens newsie approach the girl and her group of friends. Spot knew the newsie as Cole, one of the tallest and most disreputable newsies in Queens. Watching Cole approach the girl, Spot felt an unfamiliar pang in his stomach. Wanting to be in control of the situation, Spot turned to Jack and convinced him to sit at an empty table adjacent to the girl; just close enough to hear the conversation without looking suspicious. He didn't appear to have missed much of their conversation.

"So, gorgeous, who're yeh leavin' wit tonight?" Cole said licentiously.

The girl turned and looked at him slightly baffled. "Certainly not you," Spot heard her say contemptibly. He couldn't help but smile at the bewildered look on Cole's face.

Right as the scene was getting interesting, someone plopped herself on his lap.

"Well Spot Conlon, fancy seeing you here," the familiar voice whispered closely in his ear, grabbing hold of his suspenders. Spot turned and recognized her from talking earlier with the mystery girl.

"Hey Millie," Spot said distractedly, trying to overhear what the two were saying at the next table.

"Come on, Spot, get a girl a drink?" Millie persisted, ignoring Jack sitting nearby and fondling Spot's shirt.

"Yeah, alright" Spot said and motioned for one of his boys to bring over a drink for the two.

Irritated at being pushed out of the conversation, Jack finally said, "So I'll see ya around Spot, ok?"

"See ya Jacky," Spot said, still focusing on the table next to him while Millie blathered on about the party, affectionately touching Spot's chest and talking right into his ear. Oblivious to everyone but herself, she didn't notice Spot beginning to lose patience with his uninvited guest.

"Yeah, I guess so," he said to whatever it was she had said, avoiding her gaze.

"Hey Conlon, are you even paying attention to me? What is wrong with you?" Millie badgered.

Spot practically growled at her accusation and just as he was about to snap at her, he saw the girl with the honey colored hair stand up to confront Cole and look straight at him. She stared for a moment as if she were trying to place him. It took her only a moment to recognize him, and almost as if she knew the anger Spot was feeling, a smirk of understanding lit up her face as she saw Millie sitting on Spot's lap. She broke her gaze quickly as was being pestered once again by Cole and his nauseating offer. Although Spot was too far away to hear what she said to Cole before she walked away, it clearly made Cole bitterly give up his fight. Spot was so agitated that she had seen, not to mention seemingly understood, his frustration that he practically pushed Millie off of his lap and went to look for West. West was surprised to see his leader is such a foul mood; usually these parties were an excuse for him to boost his ego and use his influence.

"Hey Spot, what's wrong? Yeh're lookin' a little distracted," he asked, genuinely concerned.

"If one more person asks me that, I'll break both his legs, yeh got me?" Spot answered, locking eyes with West.

"Loud an' clear," West replied nervously.

Spot did his best to enjoy the rest of the evening, but his thoughts always wandered back to what the girl might be doing. Every once in a while he would glance around the room, but only for a few seconds. After an hour, he finally gave up on seeing her again and sat down for a game of poker with Racetrack Higgins.

"Well look who it is, the King of Brooklyn hisself," said Racetrack, grinning as Spot sat down at the table.

"Figured I'd give yeh fools a run for yer money since yeh make it so easy. 'Specially you, Blink" Spot said, a mischievous smirk on his lips as he looked at Kid Blink.

"Yeah, well, if yeh two bums would stop cheatin' then maybe someone else could have a chance at winnin'," Blink said resentfully.

Race dealt the cards and the game was on. They didn't speak to one another as the game progressed, too focused on victory to worry about the party around them. The game was going swimmingly for Spot, who had just won two rounds, until a bustle at the other side of the room turned everyone's heads. From where they were sitting, no one could see what was going on. After a few seconds of confusion, someone yelled at the top of his lungs, "It's Harlem 'gainst Queens! Pick yer sides!"

The boys at the table stood up and scattered like fallen leaves; they knew this fight would be monumental. Some ran around looking for a fight and others ran towards the door like they'd seen a ghost. Spot glanced around quickly and saw West heading towards him, looking for direction on what to tell the boys.

"Get 'em outta here, West, even if you gotta fight yeh're way out. I ain't riskin' da boys' necks for some stupid brawl," Spot commanded as West nodding in agreement.

West ran back to the group of Brooklyn boys to tell them the plan. Meanwhile, Spot was looking around the room to survey the severity of the fight when he saw her again. Spot figured she had escaped with her friends when the fight started, but he saw her helping a young boy who appeared to have hurt his leg. She was trying to help him stand up, but he immediately fell back down. Her friends were no where in sight. "Figures," Spot said to himself.

Chaos was engulfing the entire room, but Spot called West over to him.

"Figure out wheah dat kid over there belongs an' send him home, ya got me?" Spot demanded.

"Got it."

She clearly did not see them walk towards her and the boy, because when West grabbed the boy she panicked and started grabbing at West, trying to get the boy back. Although West looked nervous taking the boy away from her, he followed his leader's orders and rushed towards the crowd, the wounded boy in his arms. The girl was still panicking and screaming after West, so Spot threw her over his shoulder and made his way calmly towards the exit. He knew there was an exit in the kitchen, so while everyone was rushing towards the door, he made his way quietly towards the back, the girl kicking and screaming all the while. Spot finally made it to the back dooor and set the girl down on the alley street.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she screeched at him, her face red.

"Savin' yer ass," Spot said calmly, looking back through the door to see the rush of people running around the building. "Yeh nevah woulda gotten outta there."

"And what makes you so certain of that?" she retorted, her indignant hands on her hips.

"Sweetheart, yeh don' look like yeh could escape from an old lady, much less a bunch a angry newsies." He stared her down, daring her to disagree.

She took her hands off her hips and crossed them. "So this is the thanks I get for saving you in the park. You're quite the Prince Charming, aren't you?" she replied with disdain on her face. "That's very sweet and all, but I didn't need your help. So thanks, but no thanks," she spit out as she began walking away from the lodging house.

"Hey, wheah do yeh think yeh're goin'?" Spot shouted after her.

"Home, where else?" she replied, turning her face halfway as she continued walking.

"It ain't smart ta be walkin' around the city by yehself at night. Especially not you, sweetheart," he said with amusement in his eyes.

"Oh, and why's that?" she said, turning around angrily.

"Yeh kiddin'?" he said with a laugh. "There are loads of scurvy men wanderin' around dese streets at night, and they'd consider themselves lucky to grab a piece like you."

Not knowing what to say, she simply glared at him from where she was standing. He could tell by the look behind her eyes that she was fighting with herself about what she was going to do.

"Look, since I brought yeh out here by yaself, I'll walk ya to a place yeh can stay the night," Spot offered, knowing she couldn't intelligently refuse. "By the looks of yeh I can tell yeh live in Manhattan," he said arrogantly, not blinking an eye. "So don' try ta convince me yeh can walk home from heah."

She looked as if she were considering his offer, when she began moving closer to him. "So tell me, Spot Conlon, how do I know I can trust you?" She moved so close that her face was practically touching his. Normally, Spot would assume she was flirting with him, but he could see by the seriousness in her face she had no other interest than getting home.

"Yeh don't. The question is, would yeh rather risk trusting me, or walk home alone in the middle of the night?" Spot asked disinterestedly, never once breaking eye contact with her.

She considered his offer for a moment, examining his face, and then she decided: "Fine. Let's get going then."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

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><p>The dark figures walked several blocks away from the solitary alley before Spot broke the silence. "I haven' seen yeh around here before."<p>

"That's because I'm new here," she replied simply.

Spot gave a little laugh. "I coulda told yeh that. Where exactly d'yeh come from?"

"Down South."

"Well that ain't vague at all."

"Does it really matter?" she turned and addressed him exasperatedly.

"Jeez, calm down, I was jist makin' small talk is all," Spot defended himself. He wasn't used to people challenging him like that, and it was beginning to try his patience. He was frustrated at her lack of gratitude, so he simply stopped talking. Silence passed between them for a few moments. The girl furrowed her brow and appeared to be thinking, while Spot continued strolling, cool and collected as always, through the chilled night streets.

Kate turned to Spot for a moment, and then turned her gaze back ahead, her brow still furrowed. "Look, I come from a small town and I'm not about to trust anyone here. Especially after what just happened in there," she finally declared, never fully looking Spot.

"Yeh shouldn't," Spot said bluntly, causing her to raise her head and look at him curiously.

Spot could feel her looking at him but he kept his eyes on the road ahead of him. After a few more seconds, he turned to her and said, "What're yeh starin' at?"

"My name's Kate," she replied, reaching out her hand.

Knowing it would be a waste of time to ask about her last name, Spot shook her hand and started to walk again. They walked for another block when he asked, "So what, did yeh move here wit yer family?"

"I suppose you could say that. We were actually dragged here by my aunt. My father can't say no to her," she said, a thoughtful look crossing her face.

"Well, what did she drag yeh here for?"

"She wanted my father to expand his business. He wasn't interested in the idea in the first place, but she kept insisting it would be a good venture. He eventually gave up and brought us all here."

"Yeh got brothers and sisters?"

He saw her face fall imperceptibly. "No."

Spot nodded silently and continued leading them towards the abandoned apartment he used infrequently when he had the impulse to get out of the lodging house.

"That boy is going to be all right, isn't he?" Kate asked abruptly, turning to Spot with a concerned look on her face.

Spot smiled slowly and said, "Yeah, he'll be fine."

"Good," she said thoughtfully, focusing on the wet streets ahead of them.

Spot had originally considered bringing her with him to the Brooklyn Lodging House, but he found himself reluctant to do so. He had concluded that the all the boys rushing around on a fighting high would probably make her nervous, and besides, he needed a break from those dolts and their petty problems.

After walking a few more blocks, Spot moved to turn into a dark alley. Kate stopped, eyeing the alley, then Spot. "Are you sure we have to go in there?" she asked nervously, biting her lip.

"The door's only a couple feet in."

"Can't you just take me to Manhattan?"

"Nah, sweetie, way too far away from here," he said as he went to turn into the alley again. When he realized she wasn't following, he exited the alley and looked her straight into the eye.

"Look, I brought yeh this far. I know what yeh're thinkin', and if I had wanted ta, I woulda done it already. So let's just go, okay?"

She said nothing, simply staring at him severely. Spot turned around and walked down the alley to the door, not bothering to turn around to see if she was following him. Behind him, he heard her footsteps and smirked.

They reached the half-rotten entrance door and Spot slowly opened the door, motioned Kate inside. She stepped through the threshold and he locked the door behind them. There was only a simple lantern that Spot lit to guide them through the old building. Passing Kate in the hallway, Spot made his way up the dilapidated stairs, listening for her footsteps behind him.

After climbing three flights of creaky stairs, they arrived at the apartment landing. Spot handed Kate the weak lantern and opened the apartment door with a rusty key beneath the decaying welcome mat. The few people that knew of Spot's apartment assumed that Spot used it as a place to bring his girlfriends, but they were wrong. Rather, he used the apartment as a place to be by himself with his thoughts, but he would never tell anyone that.

There was pure darkness inside the apartment, so Kate waited outside with the lantern while Spot went to light the few candles he had collected for his brief stays. When all the candles had been lit, Kate made her way cautiously into the apartment. Stepping on a particularly creaky floorboard, she jumped and moved no further into the apartment.

Spot gave a low laugh and she turned to him abruptly, glaring at him.

"And what's so funny?"

Still laughing, Spot replied, "I take it yeh're not used to places like this."

She declined to respond to his comment. Spot walked over to a wooden cupboard in the main room while Kate sat down on the makeshift couch in the center of the room. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey and poured two glasses.

"Want some?" he asked.

"Please," she said. Spot hid his surprise at her answer. He never expected her to accept his offer. Handing her a glass with a good amount of whiskey in it, he watched as she downed the glass in one go, not even batting an eye. Spot watched her intently, not daring to ask any questions in case she shut him off again. He knew the nagging feeling of needing a drink; he had experienced it many times before. Diverting his attention to something else, he asked, "Won't yer family be worried about yeh if yeh don' show up tonight?"

"Not likely. They don't know I went out."

Spot looked at her with raised eyebrows. "So yeh snuck out?"

She turned and looked at him sternly, defying him to ask more questions about her family life. Not interested in starting a fight, Spot shrugged and took out two blankets he knew were hiding in a small cupboard in the wall. Seeing the blankets made Kate realize she was going to be sleeping in this strange place with him and she began looking around nervously. Spot could immediately sense the change in her mood. "Don' worry, I certainly ain't no gentleman, but I ain't a criminal eitha."

Kate didn't reply, and Spot didn't expect her too. He brought the blankets over to where she was sitting and went to make himself comfortable leaning against the wall by the window.

"No way, I'm not sleeping on your couch," Kate said, standing up from her place on the couch.

"What the hell is that supposed ta mean?" Spot asked, extremely irritated.

"I mean, I'm not going to sleep on the couch if you have to sleep on the floor."

"Yeh'd rather sleep on the floor than on the couch?" Spot asked her incredulously.

"I've done it before, it's fine," she said pointedly. "Besides, this is your place; I'm only here for tonight." Realizing how scandalous what she said had sounded, she flushed red.

Spot was amused that she would be embarrassed by her unwholesome implication but didn't mind drinking an entire glass of whiskey in front of him. "Nah, sweetheart, I don' care if yeh've done it before. I ain't sleeping on that couch while yeh're here. Yeh sleep there or yeh don', I don' care, but I ain't sleeping on that couch," he said with determination. They stared each other down for a few moments until Kate broke their eye contact. She walked slowly around the apartment, examining the structure. "So, is this really where you live?"

"What, yeh feel sorry fer me?"

Not noticing the bitterness in Spot's voice, Kate continued. "Well it certainly isn't the fanciest place in New York, but it's kind of nice, actually. Sometimes I miss living by myself," she said thoughtfully, then starting suddenly, as if realizing her mistake.

Spot took note of what she said, but had no interest in pushing any further. "Well, I hate to break it to yeh sweetheart, but I don' live here. I just come here when the occasion calls for it." Kate blushed profusely once more.

"Well, where do you live?" She pressed, overcoming her embarrassment.

"The Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House."

"You're a newsie?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah, now if yeh don' mind, I'm gonna hit the sack," he said shortly, making himself comfortable against the wall.

"You're going to sleep like that?"

"Trust me, I've done a lot worse," he said curtly..

"Are you sure you don't want a blanket, or even a pillow?" She offered.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Good night, sweetheart," he said as he pulled his cap down over his eyes, crossed his arms and bowed his head.

Uncomfortable with her sudden solitude, Kate settled down onto the couch. It took her what seemed like hours to fall asleep, but eventually her dreams overpowered her.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you very, very much for the reviews! They are much appreciated :)

I'm just going to push out a few chapters as they've been pre-written.

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

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><p>Spot woke up to incandescent rays of sun shining at an angle straight into his eyes. His cap had somehow fallen to the side of his face and the bright light irritated him. It took him a moment to wipe the sleep out of his eyes and recollect what had happened the night before. Recalling his overnight guest, he turned to check on Kate.<p>

She wasn't there.

He made to stand up and felt the blankets he had given her for the night around his shoulders. How she had wrapped them around him without waking him he didn't know; long ago, he had learned to be a light sleeper and the slightest movement would awaken him. This talent had helped him many times in the past; anyone attempting to sneak in or out of his lodging house received a rude awakening from the smack of his gold-tipped cane.

Spot could tell she had left recently; the blankets still smelled of her gardenia perfume. He had first noticed her scent when he threw her over his shoulder and carried her out of the Queens lodging house. Spot had never been one for flowers, but he recognized that scent from memories of his childhood, walking through the park with his mother.

Pushing that long forgotten memory aside, he surveyed the apartment for a moment. The rays from the morning sun caught the silver glint of something on the couch, so he rose to investigate. Buried in between the cushions, he found a silver locket. Delicate flowers lay in relief against a dark silver background, whimsical leaves twisting and turning around them. Opening the locket, he found a picture of a smiling family. The man looked to be fairly young; perhaps in his late twenties and dressed in a gray suit and tie. The woman and the young girl were wearing white blouses and simple jewelry, hair in bouncing curls. The girl in the photo had the same honey-colored hair as Kate, but only looked to be about 5 years old. A bundle in the woman's arms caught his eye. Looking closer, he realized the bundle was a baby, wrapped in a voluminous lace dress. During their brief conversation, Kate had never mentioned her mother or a younger sister. "Somethin' ain't right heah," he thought to himself. He sat looking at the locket with his eyebrows furrowed, memorizing the people in the picture.

Standing up, he gently put the locket in his shirt pocket and sighed. "Looks like it won' be so easy ta git her out a me hair."

* * *

><p>Kate had always had a gift of being able to wake herself up at just the right time. As the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon and the sky flooded orange, she got up quietly from the couch. Silently tip-toeing over to where Spot was slouched, she put the blankets he had given her around his shoulders, slightly knocking his cap to the side. Not wanting to risk waking him up, she left his cap where it was.<p>

She walked cautiously down the stairs to avoid their creaking and stepped out into the Brooklyn morning. Walking through Brooklyn to Manhattan in daylight wasn't as difficult as she had expected. Vendors lined the streets, setting up their wares for the day. Stopping at a fish vendor, she asked for directions to the Brooklyn Bridge. He looked at her strangely, but obliged. Once over the bridge, she found her way easily to Manhattan's center. She reached her house and opened the door with a soft push, removing her shoes and making her way to her room, barely touching the finished wood floors.

She knew she would have to change her clothes quickly, as her aunt had the habit of rising early for breakfast, and demanded that Kate join her and her snobbish daughter, Carrie, so they could continue their vituperative criticism of the girl regarding her public behavior. Aunt Clara had a very specific idea on how young ladies should behave in public, and Kate certainly did not fit the bill. During these beratings, Kate could see Carrie out of the corner of her eye, smirking and nodding at everything her mother said.

Unlike other adults that Kate had known in her lifetime, her Aunt Clara didn't criticize her out of love; Kate could detect a smile behind her aunt's eyes that told Kate she enjoyed seeing the girl make a fool out of herself and savored every chance she got to make it known.

Although her aunt kept a close eye on everything in the mansion, Kate knew she hadn't discovered her nighttime outing. Undoubtedly her aunt loved to see her fail, but if she realized Kate had risked the entire family's reputation by going to a party with newsies, she would have locked the girl in her room for all eternity. The fact that she was not at the door waiting to drag her off when Kate arrived was a good sign.

Kate went directly to her room and changed quickly from her black dress into an elegant lace dress with a black ribbon tied around her waist. Kate turned around her stuffy new room, complete with classical hanging paintings and frilly textiles. Focusing on her bed, she saw a suspicious bump under her comforter and went to investigate.

"Well good morning, monkey," she said as she lifted the blanket to find her beloved dog, Tula, wagging her tail in greeting. Although the tiny white fluff was theoretically Carrie's dog given to her as a gift by her mother, it was quite clear to everyone that the dog would not tolerate Carrie's constant whining and much preferred Kate's quiet company.

Kate sat in her bed playing with the happy little dog. She was so busy laughing at the dog's pranks that she did not hear a soft knock on the door.

"I apologize for interrupting Miss Abbott, but your father requests to see you," Roberta said with a kind face after slowly opening the door.

"Thank you very much, Roberta," Kate said, giving Tula one last kiss on the head and getting off of the bed. To get to her father's study, she walked down two long hallways lined with cherry wood, original Romantic Period paintings hanging on the walls.

Kate smiled before the large carved wooden door of her father's study. Upon entering, she saw her father sitting as his desk and twirling his moustache in thought, as he had a habit of doing. "Good morning, darling!" he said cheerfully, looking up from the papers on his desk.

Standing in front of him, Kate examined her father lovingly. He was a man of about 50 years, with auburn brown, thinning hair. His serious, thick moustache attempted to disguise his playful mouth, but his giddy laugh always gave him away. He was a tall, thin man, who had been born in raised in South Carolina in a historically wealthy family. Kate had heard from people that he had started his business as a young man and it continued to grow indefinitely because of his hard work and his business acumen. None of that had impressed Kate; what most impressed her was that he was the most generous person she had ever met.

John Abbott rose from his desk and opened his arms to her. Her father wrapped his two thin arms around her shoulders in an affectionate hug. He gave her a kiss on her head and asked, "Well, what exciting adventures are you planning for today?"

"I'm not entirely sure, father. I honestly hadn't thought about it," she replied noncommittally.

"Well, why don't you go see that traveling circus that arrived yesterday? I've heard people on the streets raving about it," he suggested. Kate had seen the swirling red-topped tents as she was walking home from visiting a Manhattan orphanage the day before. She couldn't help but stare at the complacent animals being moved into the tent by their trainers. The scene had deeply bothered her because of it reminded her of the orphanages she frequented; children, like the animals, unceasingly moving from place to place with no real home. Truthfully, the circus was the last place she wanted to go, but she couldn't bear to disappoint her father. "Sure father, that sounds lovely," she said.

"Excellent, Kate darling. I truly would love to accompany you, but I have a lot of work to do today. Unfortunately, I don't think I will be able to," he said apologetically, looking into Kate's brown eyes.

"Of course, father," Kate said with a small smile on her face. "I understand completely." Kate didn't mind that he wasn't able to spend much time with her; she simply appreciated the brief moments they had together.

"Thank you, dear," he said, kissing Kate's head once more. "Now, be very careful out there; even disreputable folks go to the circus, but make sure to enjoy yourself."

"I will father, thank you," Kate said graciously.

Stiff footsteps announced Aunt Clara's entrance into the study.

"Now Kate, your father has much to do today, you best be off," she said with a false smile, daggers shooting out of her soul through her eyes.

"Ah, well it was lovely to see you at least for a bit, dear. Do enjoy yourself at the circus, I've heard it is something special," he said as he hugged her goodbye. "I love you very much."

"I love you too, father," the Kate said quietly, hugging him back with all her strength.

"Come, come, now, it is a busy day after all," Aunt Clara said, clucking and shooing Kate out of the study into the hallway. Kate turned around to catch one last glance of her father, but her Aunt Clara gave her a deathly glare and slammed the door shut. Rolling her eyes, Kate set out for her circus adventure.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

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><p>Kate walked through the crowded Manhattan streets, taking in the distinctive sights and sounds. It certainly was much different from Brooklyn; the streets were cleaner, the people were more polite and the buildings were well-maintained. Although she had only been living in Manhattan for a couple of weeks, Kate had learned most of the streets from her daily wanderings. She moved efficiently through the throngs of people, imperceptibly surveying the constantly changing situation around her.<p>

From afar, Kate saw the red-topped circus tents glaring like beacons calling everyone to the city center. As she neared the circus the crowd became denser, so Kate slowed her movements so as not to lose herself. Everywhere people were talking and yelling amongst themselves, making grand hand gestures and spilling their popcorn all over the streets. Children held on tightly to their mothers' hands, half from fear of the unruly crowd and half from terrible excitement at seeing the promised show.

Kate decided that the crowd was too thick and unruly to handle at the moment; she was going to have to wait until the mass of people had somewhat dissipated. She turned to move away from the multitude of people when someone fiercely grabbed her arm and began pulling her away. Kate turned to confront her attacker and saw the greasy, sleazy smile of Cole, the boy she had unwillingly met at the party in Queens.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Kate asked angrily, trying to pull her arm out of his savage grasp.

Cole laughed viciously. "Look heah princess, no one turns me down and gets away so easily."

"Funny, I would have thought you'd gotten used to it," Kate said sarcastically. This infuriated Cole and he jerked her arm ever harder. No one in the crowd batted an eye at the altercation; everyone was pulling this way and that, and Kate knew she didn't stand out from the rest of them. She considered for a brief moment screaming for help, but she knew that it would only cause Cole to come back for her again. She had to end this on her own.

Kate saw that he was dragging her away to the nearby park, and she came up with a plan.

* * *

><p>Spot left the dusty apartment unlocked; after all, there was nothing there to be stolen, as he had hidden all the easily-replaced pillows and blankets in their respective cabinets. He began his long walk towards Brooklyn's neighbor, in the direction of the city center, where he figured he would come across someone who could direct him to her.<p>

The morning was cool and the streets were still wet from the morning dew. Spot casually glanced at the vendors lining the streets and thought to himself of his boys buying their morning papers to sell. Being the leader of the Brooklyn Newsies and the proven best seller in all of New York, he didn't worry about selling his papers that morning; he had sufficient money saved up for emergencies.

Brooklyn was not exactly a place one would go to escape the hustle and bustle of the city, but Spot had to admit to himself that Brooklyn was quite pleasant in the morning. As he walked through the streets with his hands in his pockets, he could feel the young girls' lingering stares following his every move. His confidence and dangerous good looks had always earned him people's respect, fear or desire. He couldn't deny that he enjoyed the attention, good or bad, because it served to enhance his reputation on the New York streets.

Spot turned his thoughts to what he was in the process of doing. Even he knew it was uncharacteristic of him to bring a beautiful young girl to his apartment, not put any moves on her, and to top it all off, hand deliver her forgotten jewelry to her. Trying to justify his actions, he concluded that he was simply bored with the everyday girls that clung to him, fighting for his attention yet doing nothing to deserve it. Lost in his thoughts, Manhattan's center came into view.

Spot made his way lazily through the busy Manhattan streets. A mother and her young girl passed by him on the sidewalk going the opposite direction, and Spot smirked as the woman pulled her daughter closer as he passed by. The differences between Manhattan and Brooklyn were vast, but even here he was feared and respected. Spot thrust his hands into his pockets and kept on his way. Turning the corner, he came upon Kid Blink, a Manhattan newsie friend of his.

"Heya Blink, how's it rollin'?" he asked good-naturedly.

"Spot! I didn' evah think I'd find ya here. What brings ya all da way ovah from Brooklyn?" Blink asked.

"Personal business," Spot replied seriously. "Lissen, wheah's dis circus I heah is around?"

Blink clearly got the hint. "Yeah, it's ovah dere a couple blocks, jist follah all da muddas an dey'll lead ya right dere," he directed.

"Tanks Kid, see ya 'round," Spot said, spitting in his hand and offering it to Blink.

"See ya 'round, Spot," Blink said, spitting in his own and shaking Spot's hand.

Spot followed Blink's directions and came upon the crowds swarming around the red tents. He looked around the crowds, hoping to see one of the girls he saw talking with Kate that night, when he caught a glimpse of that familiar honey-colored hair and saw Cole dragging her by the arm. Not wanting Cole to see him, he quickly but quietly tried to make his way around the crowds to the park where he saw they were headed. All the people yelling and pushing about made it very difficult for Spot to keep an eye on the pair and for a moment he feared he had lost sight of them. Undeterred, he finally reached the edge of the park and cautiously searched for the two.

He came upon a clearing in the bushes and was able to see the two of them and, sure enough, they were alone. Even the couples and families in the park had followed the collective ruckus to see the circus. Cole still had Kate by the arm, but a moment later Spot saw Kate say something sweetly to Cole that made him turn around and regard her curiously, dropping her arm. They were standing near a large oak tree, and Kate took Cole's hand and led him over to it. Spot was still too far away to hear what they were saying, but he saw Cole's face turn crimson from her unexpected change of attitude. Moving yet closer, Spot pulled out his slingshot and carefully bent down to pick up a smooth rock from the park grounds. He watched Kate's every move like a hawk, slowly understanding her plan. She deliberately led Cole backwards towards the great oak, so that she was facing him as his back was to the tree, talking to him low and smiling charmingly the entire time.

As Kate reached her hand up to grab Cole's head and bludgeon it against the tree, he fell heavily over on his left side. Stupefied and slightly disappointed, Kate bent down to see what had knocked him out. She saw a small rock next to his unconscious body, and sure enough, a bloody bruise was beginning to form where the rock had hit his right temple. She heard a rustling in the bushes and whipped around to face her next foe.

Spot lazily made his way over to her, relishing the look of confusion on Kate's face.

"Bet ya didn' think yeh'd see me this soon, did ya?" he said with a smirk on his face.

Too stunned for words, Kate sat with her mouth agape, staring at him angrily. Finally regaining her speech, she said bitterly, "Well I certainly hope you don't expect me to be grateful for that."

Spot grinned. "Dat would be da normal reaction now, wouldn' it?"

"I didn't ask for your help!" she cried exasperatedly.

"But ya got it anyways, sweetheart."

Kate's face turned a light shade of red. "Okay, so here goes: Thanks for being a hot shot and ruining my moment to teach that cow a lesson," she spit out. "Satisfied?"

Spot shrugged. "It's a start," he said, looking around the park uninterestedly.

"How did you even find me?" Kate asked, incensed.

"Trust me sweetheart, it wasn' too hard. Manhattan's pretty easy ta figure out. Jist follah da crowds an yeh can usually find who yer looking fer."

"What do you want?" she asked pointedly, not trusting his motives.

"Well, ain't dat a nice way ta greet da guy dat saved yer butt from a rabid street rat," Spot said gloatingly.

Kate's face became even redder with irritation. "Look, I'm not a damsel in distress and I certainly don't need anyone following me around, so what exactly is it you're getting at?"

"Ya left dis," he said, taking the locket out of his shirt pocket and holding it in front of her. "I don' need it lyin' 'round, so take it."

Kate looked at him suspiciously and slowly took the locket from his fingers. "Thank you," she said quietly, looking at the piece of jewelry with thoughtful eyes.

As the exchange took place, he saw Kate focus on something behind him. Just as he was about to turn around, he felt someone desperately grab his shoulder and he turned his head to see who it was. He was surprised to see West, out of breath and red-faced, holding onto Spot's shoulder for dear life.

"What's wrong with yeh?" Spot asked, frustrated.

"Spot, Zee is real bad. When we got back from da party last night her skin felt like fire, but she kept tellin' us ta bring more blankets. We tried givin' her soup, but she said she couldn' swallow. Her bunk is all wet, she's sweatin' so bad," West said worriedly, desperately searching for consolation in Spot's face.

"Wait a minute, who's stayin' wit her?" Spot said, stone-faced.

"Well, no one, really. Da boys couldn' afford ta skip a day a sellin', so I told 'em I'd ask you –"

"Does she have a rash on her neck or arms?" Kate interrupted, looking gravely at West.

Both West and Spot looked baffled at her for a moment, and West turned back to talk to Spot.

"What, are you deaf? Does she have a rash or not?" Kate persisted.

"Spot, who is dis broad?" West asked, staring back at Kate.

"Look, if she has a rash and a high temperature she probably has scarlet fever," Kate reasoned with him. "How old is she?"

"Nine."

Kate's eyes flashed with worry. "She needs to see a doctor right away; it could get worse quickly."

Spot finally interjected. "Who da hell do ya think we are, sweetheart, Pulitzah? We don' have money ta call a doctah." West nodded in agreement.

"Then let me go look at her," she said earnestly.

The two boys looked at her incredulously.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. I know what I'm talking about. Besides, it looks like I'm your only option," she said intently.

West continued staring at her disbelievingly, but after a pause Spot acquiesced. "Alrigh', let's go."

"Spot, are ya sure about dis?" West asked.

Spot simply gave West a look that incontestably ended the conversation and started walking in the direction of Brooklyn, Kate following closely behind. West stood stunned for a moment, finally conceding to his leader's judgment.

"Dis won' end well," West said discreetly to himself, carefully eyeing the two figures ahead of him.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

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><p>Walking behind Spot and West, who had caught up with him, Kate soundlessly observed the metamorphosis in the environment as they traveled from Manhattan to Brooklyn. The buildings were more deteriorated, the people were less animated and the streets had a brusque air to them. The boys kept up a quick pace ahead of Kate. Spot and West didn't pay any attention to their follower; had Kate not seen the worried look buried in Spot's eyes, she would have thought they were trying to lose her.<p>

Kate noticed that wherever they went, but especially in Brooklyn, people took notice of Spot. He had an air about him that demanded attention, even when he was hurrying through the streets. More than once Kate saw girls turn their heads to watch him as he passed and young boys stare after him in admiration. West was a fairly intimidating figure himself; he was fairly tall with messy brown hair, and had the sinewy muscles of an active young man. Kate laughed to herself, wondering what her aunt would say if she saw her niece walking around Brooklyn with two delinquents.

After walking for about an hour, the group approached a dark, wooden building Kate assumed must be the Brooklyn Lodging House. Kate did her best to hide her surprise at the decrepit destination. She knew the newsies were practically indigent, but she hadn't ever considered where they lay their heads at night. She stealthily glanced at West's ink-stained fingers and threadbare clothes as they neared the building. Guiltily, she did the same for Spot. She was surprised to find that Spot's fingers were untarnished and quickly focused her eyes elsewhere. Since she had arrived in New York she had had a few brief encounters with newsies; always, she could tell by their demeanor that they had lived the merciless life of the streets with only a couple of pennies to show for it. Kate felt a sort of one-way camaraderie with these boys; she knew firsthand what they went through every day, but knew better than to entertain the notion that they would ever want to understand her.

West reached the door to the building first and opened it for Spot and Kate. Spot entered and tread determinedly up the stairs, Kate and West following. Kate immediately noticed the hush of the dwelling and then realized that the boys must be out selling. At the top of the stairs was a long hallway, and the first door on the right led the three into an individual room.

Upon entering the room, Kate's eyes were instantly drawn to the lone bed in the room. Kate looked at the sick girl. She was lying on a simple cot, a cool cloth on her forehead and half delirious with fever. She had tousled, short, brown hair that covered most of her face and was as skinny as a twig. When she saw Spot enter the room she desperately tried to sit up.

"Relax kid, I brough' someone ta look at yeh," Spot said to the girl. She lay back down, looking around to see who her leader had brought to see her. Kate stepped out from behind Spot while West brought her over a chair to sit next to her patient.

"Yeh brough' me anudda one a yer hoity-toity goilfriends? What da hell is she gunna do?" Zee asked, looking angry and hurt.

West saw Spot almost sweat trying to maintain his self-control as he folded his arms and regarded the girl dangerously. West knew that had it been any other newsie talking back to Spot, he would have gotten a soaking as soon as he could stand up. Kate gave a small laugh at the scene playing out in front of her and sat down next to her patient.

"Oh, don't go on flattering him. It'll go straight to his head, and it looks big enough already," Kate said sarcastically, glancing at Spot out of the corner of her eye. "Besides, I can tell you're pretty sick. From what I hear, none of you have money for a doctor, so I'm your next best shot, kid."

Nothing made Zee madder than being called "kid." "Yeh ain' got no business heah lady, I'm fine," Zee said stubbornly. "Look, I'm gettin' up, see?" she said as she weakly tried to get out of bed.

Kate rolled her eyes and pushed the girl back down, which startled Zee. "Trust me kid, you're not fine when a little old lady could kick the pants off of you."

Not having a snide retort at the ready, Zee resigned herself to Kate's examination. West watched the scene with amusement; Zee was probably the most stubborn newsie in the city, and definitely the toughest. She came to Brooklyn and asked to be a newsie when she was just a little kid after her brother, who had been a Brooklyn newsie, died in a street fight. West knew that Spot had a soft spot for the girl because of the way he kept tabs on her every move and let her get away with kid pranks. West had a feeling Spot had been exactly the same way when he was a kid. Zee didn't trust anyone except Spot after her brother was killed. Admittedly, West was surprised that Kate had managed to check Zee's temper in five minutes; something that most of the Brooklyn Newsies hadn't accomplished in years.

Zee was clearly not thrilled with her caretaker, but begrudgingly allowed her to take her temperature and examine her rash. West was surprised at how bad the rash had gotten; the night before it had just been a bit on her neck, but it now spread all the way down her arms like petite red roses. A few minutes of Kate's questions seemed to take all the energy out of Zee, so Kate allowed her to lay down and drift off into a sleepy delirium. Kate finished her examination, stood up and turned to Spot.

"She definitely has scarlet fever," she said ruefully. "It's pretty bad. You have to keep everyone away from her, it's highly contagious."

Silence enshrouded the room. "So, what now?" West asked, breaking his silence from the corner of the room. Spot looked hard at Kate, never taking his eyes off of her.

"I need to stay here with her," Kate said simply to both West and Spot. "Her fever is going to get worse and there is a high probability of complications. I know you have to sell, so I'll just stay here with her," Kate suggested.

West sat dumbfounded. Aside from Zee, they had never had a girl stay at the Lodging House. Well, unless you counted Spot's "friends," but they never stayed for very long.

Spot grabbed Kate's arm and said in a low, gruff voice, "Come with me, girly."

Kate was pulled down the hall forcefully by Spot, who took her to what appeared to be a closet, practically throwing her inside and slamming the door.

"What a gentleman," Kate said acerbically, angered by his aggression.

Grabbing her arms and holding them flush against her body, he looked straight into her eyes and said, "I wanna make dis poifectly cleah; yeh'll only be welcome heah fer as long as Zee needs yeh. Da moment she kin handle 'erself, yer outta heah."

"Don't talk to me like a child," Kate defended herself. "I'm not here because I saved you from that cop or because you got me out of that party. I'm here because that kid's sick."

"Don' kid yerself, sweetheart, yer heah ta get out a dat stuffy woild a yers." Kate stiffened noticeably as Spot continued. "Yeah, I saw dat look on yer face at da party. Yeh didn' fit in wit anyone dere 'cause we'se all street rats and yeh ain't. No amount a dressin' down's gonna make anyone believe yer someone ya ain't," Spot said coldly. "Don' go gettin' attached to anyone here. Dis lodgin' house ain't yer escape from dat stuffy woild of yers."

Kate remained silent and stared back at Spot. After a few moments, Spot opened the door and motioned her out. Kate glared at him as she walked past, heading towards the sick room again.

Kate walked into the room and saw West staring at the sleeping girl from many feet away. "West," Kate said, startling him out of his daze. "Would you mind taking a note to my house?" Kate asked kindly.

"Shoah, I guess," West said cautiously, glancing at Spot for his approval.

"Here," Kate said, taking a piece of paper from her dress pocket. She grabbed a badly bitten pencil from a nearby dresser and scribbled on the paper while Spot stood leaning in the doorway and West stood uncomfortably by. "Go to Park Avenue and you'll see a flower vendor by the bent lamp post. You'll see a woman nearby with her hair in a floral bonnet, a blue dress and a white apron; that's Emmalee. Give this note to her and tell her it's from Kate; she'll know what to do," Kate said efficiently. "You'll make sure she gets it?"

"Oh he will, won't yeh West?" Spot said seriously before West had a chance to respond.

"Yeah, no problem," West said guardedly, seeing the look in Spot's eyes.

West took the note from Kate's extended hand and walked out of the room. Kate could hear his heavy footsteps down the stairs and wondered what Emmalee would think when she saw him with Kate's note. Returning from her thoughts, Kate lifted her eyes to glare at Spot, who continued to lean casually on the door frame.

"Well, nurse, don' yeh have a patient ta attend to?" he said arrogantly, raising his eyebrows in question.

Kate looked at him for a moment and unexpectedly gave a small laugh, which, from the look on his face, was immensely irritating. She turned and walked to the chair next to Zee's bed and began wetting washcloths for her forehead. "You can go now," she said, not turning to address Spot in the doorway. She smiled to herself as she heard the door slam behind her.

* * *

><p>Spot was livid as he stomped down the stairs of the lodging house. Sure, people had boiled in the past for his smart-aleck responses, while others simply nodded meekly. His like-minded girlfriends tended to turn a shade of vermilion in anger and attack him with insults, which went straight over him, never leaving a mark. The fact that this girl reacted so unexpectedly put him ill at ease. As he had slammed the bunk room door, he had seriously considered throwing her out, but remembered the sick girl lying in bed next to her. He made a promise to himself that as soon as Zee looked even slightly better, she would be gone.<p>

Knowing exactly where he wanted to go, Spot made his way to a familiar street corner with a loose manhole cover. There was a short, jaunty boy selling his papers on the corner, and Spot was determined to have a talk with him.

"Trip, I need yeh ta do somethin' fer me," he said markedly.

"Yeah boss, what is it?" Trip asked enthusiastically.

"Follow West; he's goin' ta a meet a lady in Manhattan. Follow dat lady to da house wheah she leaves da note West gave 'er. I need yeh to tell me exactly who lives there and what their story is. There's a broad upstairs takin' care of Zee, and I need ta get everythin' on her, got it?"

"Shoah thing, boss," Trip replied, nodding his head abundantly.

Spot walked away. "We'll see what secrets yeh have up yer sleeve, sweetheart," Spot said to himself, bent on enjoying the remaining afternoon sun.


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you for the reviews everyone! They are very much appreciated.

This isn't a terribly exciting chapter, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

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><p>Kate was glad to have Spot out of the room. She saw the look on Zee's face when Spot came in, and being worried about Spot's opinion certainly wasn't going to help her get better.<p>

Kate had to admit to herself that this Spot Conlon unnerved her, which was not an easy feat. Ever since the party, she had found herself unwillingly thinking about him. Why had he helped her that night? Sure, she had saved him from the cop that one day… And maybe that was it. Maybe he was the kind of person that hated to owe anyone anything. But why did he bring her the locket? He could have just as easily thrown it away…

What he said to her in the closet was what had most bothered her. She got chills up her spine when he said it; she couldn't deny that he was absolutely right. She was fed up with the stuffiness of the mansion and the constant nagging of her aunt. She hated the fake smiles of the wealthy families that visited them, clearly only interested in developing financial ties with her affluent father. She was especially disturbed because her father was uncommonly kind; she worried he wouldn't see past their plastic faces.

Tearing her thoughts away from what Spot had said, she focused on the delirious girl tossing and turning on the cot. She spent most of the afternoon wiping Zee's face and chest with wet cloths, attempting to give her some sort of relief from the consuming fever. There were moments when she would wake from her fretful dreams, but she would only have the strength to look at Kate for a moment and then faint once more. In particularly calm moments, Kate too would fall asleep, but Zee's abrupt restlessness would always wake her.

Kate didn't see Spot, or any newsie for that matter, since they left her with Zee in the morning. Although Zee had been awake and could talk in the morning, by afternoon the fever had violently thrown her into a feverish delirium. The silence permeating the room was unbearable. Kate's heart broke for this little girl that desperately fought against her invisible foe. Guns, knives and fistfights had never really frightened Kate; if you were quick enough, you could control the situation. Illness, however, was an adversary you couldn't outsmart; she had learned that hard lesson when she was a kid.

After a few hours of cool washcloths and soothing murmurs, Zee appeared to break from her fever. Silently, Kate thanked the skyward power that the worst had passed, but knew to be careful of the ensuing hours. At least for the moment, Zee was safe. Assuring herself that Zee's fever was under control and giving her a few sips of water coaxed from the rusty kitchen sink, Kate resolved to explore the lodging house to release her pent-up energy. Discreetly opening the door so as not to wake the weary girl, she stepped out into the dark hallway. Kate could intimately feel the arresting stillness of the building in the quiet afternoon, with nary a soul to illuminate its structure. The aging floorboards creaked as she walked down the hallway. She came upon a staircase at the end of the hallway and began her climb. A lone and fading light bulb hung from a scrawny wire in the ceiling, scantily lighting the narrow space.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, she encountered another hallway, albeit much shorter. There were two doors; one on the left and one on the right. Instinctively, she tested the door to the room on the right. Surprised at finding the door unlocked, she gingerly stepped into the room. Golden afternoon light entered the room from a window creating whimsical silhouettes against the hardened walls. Long forgotten objects were strewn across the room creating a dangerous maze for any who dared enter. Kate's eyes cruised the room casually, but one item readily caught her eye; a lonely wooden piano leaning against the far wall, its carved face beseeching Kate to entertain its stained yellow keys.

It had been years since Kate had played the piano, but her memory pleaded for a chance to redeem itself. She walked gently over to the instrument, avoiding paper scraps and forsaken toys, and dusted off the cloistered keys. She pressed one of the keys and was startled; the piano appeared to be in tune, as if it had been waiting for her all these years. She gazed at the piano for a long moment, imagining its happy tune and summoning into mind all the songs she had learned from her mother as a child. The heavy memories weighed her down too much and she forced herself to step away. Hopeful to distract herself, she turned her attention to the other objects settled on the dusty floor and noticed a quilted blanket. She gathered up the blanket and left the room, shutting the door fully behind her. In the hallway she remembered the other room farther down. Curious as to its habitant, she stepped lightly towards it. Just like the first room, this door too was unlocked. Opening the door a touch, a great gust of wind from an open window opposite her thrust the door from her grasp and revealed the room's contents to her.

Taking only a small step inside, she immediately realized whose room it was. The red suspenders he had worn the night he saved her from the party were strewn across the back of a corner chair. Looking around, she noticed that every object was organized carefully and precisely, and the floor and the bed were meticulously kept. Even more surprisingly, she saw a small stack of books on the table next to the bed. Although there was no one in the lodging house save for her and Zee, she didn't dare fully enter the room. She worried that by some mysterious means Spot might find out that she had trespassed in his room, and she did not want his anger to override Zee's reluctant need for help. She quietly closed the door behind her and carried the quilt downstairs to Zee's temporary prison.

At around four thirty in the afternoon she heard the front door of the lodging house swing open and the excited chattering of the newly liberated newsies as they ended their day. By five o'clock she was desperate for food, having not eaten since morning, but she refused to go downstairs and ask for food. She had been the one who insisted on staying, distinctly against Spot's wishes. She did not want to take the fact that he let her stay for granted, so she resigned herself to go hungry for an evening. As she inadvertently drifted off, the bunk room door swung open, rousing her awake. Standing in the doorway were two disheveled boys, perhaps a little older than she, staring at her at Zee.

"Can I help you?" Kate asked confusedly of the two.

"We, uh, jist wanted ta see how Zee was doin'," the taller of the two said.

Kate smiled kindly at them. "Well, she was looking pretty bad for a while there, but she's a tough kid, she'll pull through just fine."

The two boys merely nodded in reply. Kate laughed inwardly to herself; here were these two boys, typical kids from the streets with ragged clothes and bruises all over. She even recognized one of them from the party in Queens; he had been drinking heavily and was one of the primary antagonists in the fight that ended it all. These were not exactly the people she would expect to visit a sick little girl, but here they were. She chastised herself for thinking so little of them; she knew what it was like to be judged by your outward appearance, and these boys were clearly loyal to their own until death do them part.

Unexpectedly, a third boy emerged from between the original two. This one had blond, scruffy hair and was substantially shorter than the other two. The boy pulled two bowls of steaming soup from behind his back.

"We jist thought we'd bring ya dis," he said and he set down two bowls of soup on a table in the corner of the room.

Kate looked at the three boys incredulously. "Thank you," she said sincerely, looking at each one. "Would you like to stay here and join us?"

"Ah, nah, dat's alrigh'," the blond one said.

"Have you already eaten?" Kate asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

The boys looked uncomfortably at their feet. "We don' usually eat at night," the blond one said, perturbed.

Not wanting to further embarrass the boys, Kate nodded her head. "Well, see ya 'round," the blond boy said, and left the room with the other two.

Touched by the boys' thoughtfulness, Kate smiled to herself. "Looks like you've got a lot of people looking out for you," Kate said quietly to Zee. "You're a really lucky kid."

Kate put a newspaper she found on the floor of the room on top of the bowl of soup to keep it from cooling before Zee woke up. She then took her bowl of soup and began eating, not wanting to waste the boys' kindness. Kate knew that it was not unusual that Zee had still not woken up; scarlet fever tended to sap all the strength out of its victim and they would sleep for an entire day after the fever broke.

She maintained her vigil at Zee's bedside, entertaining herself with thought. She was comforted by the thought that the Zee had these newsies looking out for her. Kate knew Spot wasn't a fool; he clearly knew the danger Zee was in when he begrudgingly let Kate remain in the lodging house. Kate resolved to prove to him that it wasn't a mistake.

As if she had summoned him with her thoughts, a knock on the door announced Spot Conlon's presence.

"How's she doin'?" he asked nonchalantly, but Kate could see him tense when he saw Zee lying in bed, inanimate.

"She's doing much better. Her fever broke a couple of hours ago, and her shivers have all but disappeared. The rash is still pretty bad, but that will go down in time," Kate replied helpfully.

"Good. Make shoah it does," he said. "Did they give ya the soup?"

"Yes, they did. That was very kind, thank you," Kate said graciously. "But… don't they eat in the evening?"

Spot let out a brief laugh. "Bein' a newsie shoah don't make anyone rich, sweetheart. No one's got the money fer dinnah 'round here."

Seeing the look of guilt on her face, he said, "But don' worry, they're used ta it."

Kate nodded silently.

Uncomfortable with her thoughtful silence, Spot said, "My room's upstairs down the hall. Don' botha me unless ya need somethin', alright?"

"Yes, your highness," Kate said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"That's bettah," Spot said, smirking. He turned around on his heel and walked down the hall, leaving Kate alone once again with Zee.

Zee moved a bit and Kate snapped her attention back to the little girl, wiping her forehead once more. Once the girl fell into a peaceful sleep, Kate allowed herself to doze in her beside chair.


	8. Chapter 8

As always, thank you so much for the reviews!

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

* * *

><p>The lazily rising sun woke Kate with its subtle rays. She lifted her heavy head and immediately turned to check on Zee, who, thankfully, was sleeping soundly. Knowing the fight the girl had given the fever, Kate figured she would be asleep until the afternoon at least. She mumbled a quick prayer to herself and stood up to look out the small window the room afforded.<p>

The sun was rising over the horizon and the streets were dewy. Kate opened the window with great difficulty and leaned out, striving to see the Brooklyn docks. There they stood, strong against the abusing waves that crashed against them. Kate had always loved water, ever since she could remember. There was something peaceful yet dangerous about it, the way it could serenely float down a river while tossing massive ships around like they were cotton.

Kate decided to search the lodging house for the washroom to freshen up. She checked on Zee once more before opening the door and looking down the hallway. There was no noise, and she figured the newsies had already left to sell the morning edition. After opening a few doors on the floor with no luck, she finally found the washroom. Thankful, she splashed cool water on her face and pulled her hair into a careless bun. She spent a peaceful moment thinking of nothing in particular, and walked out of the room. Or she would have, but she collided with something on the way out.

"Well, good mornin', sunshine," Spot said with his characteristic smirk.

Kate looked at him curiously, and then simply said, "Hi."

Spot cleared the way to let her through and they both walked down the hall. "So I been thinkin' 'bout this whole situation and I've got a question fer ya. How come yeh can be 'round Zee if she's so contagious?" Spot asked.

"I caught scarlet fever when I was little. I'm immune," she said as she walked down the hall. Spot saw her lip twitch for a moment, as if recalling a memory. Suddenly remembering the events from yesterday, she turned abruptly to Spot, not waiting for him to respond. "Did West give Emmalee the note?" she asked, clearly concerned.

"Yeah, West gave it ta 'er," Spot said.

"Good," Kate said softly.

"Boone is gonna be righ' outside the lodging house if ya need anythin' fer Zee. Jist tell 'im and he'll git it," Spot said seriously.

"Thank you," Kate said surprised. Spot looked at her for a moment and then turned to leave.

She instantly remembered what she wanted to talk to him about. "Spot!" she called.

"What?" he said as he half-turned.

Kate hurried to catch up with him. "There's a couple things I need to get from my house. I need you to walk me to Manhattan once you're done selling."

Spot turned back to the stairs. "Yeah, I'll take yeh," he said distractedly as he went down the stairs.

So unexpected was his easy response that Kate was left speechless. She listened for the front door to shut and went back to check on Zee. She was very much awake and was attempting to sit up in her bed as Kate walked in.

"Looks like it's just going to be me and you today, kid," Kate said.

"Great," Zee said sarcastically. Kate smiled as she closed the door.

* * *

><p>Spot made his way determinedly down the streets. His mission was to find Trip and get as much information about this girl as he could. He surprised himself by letting her stay in the lodging house with Zee. True, he knew none of them could afford a doctor, but for him to let anyone into his lodging house, much less some mouthy girl, was unheard of. He told himself that had it been anyone else, they would never have gotten anywhere near that building. His brain suddenly snapped at him. But why her?<p>

Tired of fighting with himself, he dropped the matter. Zee's fever had broken and that was all that mattered. The girl must be doing something right.

Spot discerned the boy he was looking for selling at the end of the street. Glancing out the corner of his eye, Trip saw his leader and quickly finished his selling his paper to a well-dressed man. Spot could tell Trip had significant information from the look in his eye and the way he rushed to meet Spot.

"So, what ya got, Trip?" Spot asked calmly.

"Yeh'll nevah believe it, Spot," Trip said excitedly, throwing his lanky arms out from his body.

"Try me," Spot said, unimpressed.

Ignoring Spot's arrogance, Trip continued. "So I followed West an' saw da lady youse was talkin' 'bout. She looked at West funny, but took da note. She opened da note afta West was gone, and her face went all sour-like."

"Speed it up, Trip, I ain't got all day," Spot said impatiently.

"Well see, afta she read it she went to a house, jist like you said. But see, Spot, it ain't a house, it's a mansion. Dey got servants and paintin's and all that richie stuff," Trip practically exploded.

"Keep goin'," Spot said attentively.

"Dat ain't even da best part, Spot," Trip said, desperately trying to capture Spot's attention again. Spot gave the boy a look daring him to come up with something good.

"Remembah a couple a weeks ago, dat millionaire that moved from South Carolina to Manhattan? Da guy dat sells steel an' all dat? Now he's da richest person in New York?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"She's 'is daughter," Trip said, proud of his find.

If Trip was expecting Spot's expression to change, he was sorely disappointed. Spot stared at Trip for a few moments, and then walked away.

Trip watched Spot's retreating form in confusion. Spot sure wasn't what one would call "expressive," but Trip was expecting some kind of reaction from him. Shrugging his shoulders, he went back to selling.

* * *

><p>After closing the sick room door, Kate went over and sat down in the chair next to Zee's bed.<p>

"So, what do you want to do today?" Kate asked.

"What do I wanna do taday?" Zee asked bitterly. "Are yeh crazy lady? What da hell can I do in dis heah bed?"

"Well, the way I see it, you have two options. You can sit around, be bored and grouch all day long or we can read some of these books I brought," Kate replied apathetically, pulling out several small-sized books from her dress pocket.

"I don' read," Zee replied angrily.

"You don't read, or you can't read?" Kate asked slyly, already knowing the answer.

"A course I kin read, lady, I'm a newsie! I spend enough time every day reading, I don' need ta read books. 'Specially not stupid books 'bout dopey princesses and cruddy princes," she replied defensively.

"Maybe, but you haven't ever read anything like this. Besides, I'll read it to you," Kate said patiently, taking up the top book and opening it, testing its creaky spine. "You won't have to lift a finger."

"Yer wastin' yer time, lady. I ain't gonna listen," Zee said stubbornly, staring out the window away from Kate.

"We'll see," Kate said, ignoring the girl's incredible stubbornness.

So Kate began reading the book. It was the story of a group of young outlaws, riding through the Wild West, robbing banks and trains as they traveled the rough terrain. At first Zee continued staring out the window, pretending to ignore Kate and the outlaw story, but after an hour she settled back into her bed and gave the story some attention. Kate never looked directly at the girl, afraid she would scare Zee away from the story, so she simply put her head in the book and read.

After a few hours of reading, she looked up for a moment and noticed that Zee had been leaning in towards her as if trying to hear better, her chin in her hands. But the moment Kate looked up, Zee shot back to sitting in the bed and glared. Kate smiled, closed the book and set it down on the night table.

"Are you hungry?" she asked the embarrassed girl.

"A little," she said simply.

"Alright, I'll be back."

Kate stood up and left the room in search of some food for Zee. The soup from last night had grown cold, so she searched around the kitchen for something edible. Most of the cupboards were bare, but she managed to find some crackers hidden in a corner. Tasting one, she practically spit it out, as it was completely stale. "It's better than nothing, I suppose," she said to herself as she made her way up the stairs. Reaching the top, she heard the front door open and the sound of feet trampling the wooden floors, and realized that it must have been around five o'clock. She walked back to the sick room and found Zee holding the book and staring at the cover. Throwing the book at Kate's chair, Zee crossed her arms and pouted.

"Here, it was the only thing I could find," Kate said gently as she lay the crackers on the bedside table.

Zee looked at the crackers and said nothing. At that moment, the bedroom door swung open forcefully and there stood Spot Conlon, once again. He was surprised to see Zee awake and scowling already. Spot glanced at the bedside chair and noticed the book. Raising his eyebrows questioningly at Zee, Kate watched as the girl turned red and looked away. Kate rolled her eyes at the exchange, irritated at Spot's influence over the girl.

"Let's go," Spot said curtly, instantly turning and leaving the room.

"See you tomorrow, outlaw," Kate said to Zee, who blushed a bit and picked up the crackers.

Spot walked quickly down the hallway and the stairs, Kate trailing closely behind. Once down the stairs, she was forced to walk past all the Brooklyn Newsies, who gave her any number of looks. Ignoring their stares and focusing on the path in front of her, she continued behind Spot out the lodging house door.

"Hurry up," Spot said angrily once they were outside the lodging house, increasing his speed.

Running to catch up with him, Kate grasped tightly to all her belongings. "What is wrong with you?" she asked indignantly.

Spot gave a mocking laugh. "There ain' nothin' wrong wit me, sweetheart," he said, barely acknowledging her presence.

"Oh, so being an ass is just an act, is it?" Kate asked, fully aware of how much it would irritate him.

Spot whirled around and regarded her seriously. "The real question is why's the richest goil in New York hangin' 'round us street rats?"

Kate's face suddenly became very serious. "You had someone snoop on me, didn't you?"

Spot resumed walking. "I woulda found out sooner or latah, darlin'. Don' ferget, I got friends in high places," Spot said, his eyes continuously directed forward.

"You could have just asked me," Kate said.

Spot stopped and turned to look right at her. "I don' got time fer games, sweetheart, so what the hell are yeh doin' heah?" he asked, more of an accusation than a question.

"What do you mean what am I doing here? I'm helping a sick kid!" she retorted, throwing her hands up in frustration.

Spot rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Look, sweetheart, we don' need charity from people like you," Spot said stonily, staring at her so hard she could feel the ice in his eyes.

Incredulous at his audacity, Kate asked, "People like me? And who exactly are people like me?"

"Oh, don' go playin' dumb, goily. Yeh know exactly what I'm talkin' about," Spot said flippantly.

"Well then let me ask you something, oh mighty Spot Conlon. What the hell makes you so much better than me?"

"More like what makes you rich folks so much better than the rest of us? Helpin' us poor kids out, makin' a show ta everyone about how carin' yeh are so they'll put it in the papahs… I've seen it befoah, sweetheart, and it makes me sick."

Kate's face lost its confusion and was replaced with anger. "So that's how it is, is it? Let me tell you something, Spot Conlon, you might want to have your spies try a little harder next time you want to get information about me."

Spot simply stared at her, daring her to tell him something he didn't know.

"You want to know why I help out poor kids? Because _I'm one of them._ That's right, my whole family died when I was a kid. I lived on the streets going from town to town for three years until I got caught and got put in an orphanage. John Abbott adopted me one day when he was visiting the orphanage for charity. Yeah, my father is the richest man in New York. So what? I was lucky he even looked at me twice in that orphanage. So yeah, I like to help poor kids out, because I _am_ one of those kids."

By the time Kate had finished telling Spot off, she had led them almost to her house. Neither one turned to look at the other. They reached the stoop in silence and Kate walked up the few steps. Spot turned around to walk back to Brooklyn when she said, "I'm coming back to Brooklyn tomorrow whether you like it or not. I'm not going to let you kill that girl because of your pride," and slammed the door.

The moment Spot Conlon entered the lodging house, West saw something in his face he had never seen before. Every newsie made sure to stay out of his way that night.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

* * *

><p>It was 4:30 in the morning and Spot stepped out of the front door. The hour was uncommonly early, even for him, who prided himself on waking even before the aged fisherman had equipped their grungy boats. The thought of the morning din of the lodging house made him nauseous, so he tramped to the docks to breathe the salty air.<p>

The fetid odor of the wafting seaweed did not repulse him. It was a familiar smell, like that of an aging attic in which one searches for long lost dusty treasures. The air of the sea calmed him as he leaned against a decayed dock pole.

So, Kate didn't have the simple past he had planned. This was a whole other game he had not expected. It was one thing to have some girl play nurse one of his newsies, but it was an entirely different matter to have the daughter of a newly prominent figure in New York stay at his lodging house.

From the quiet steps he observed her take as she entered her house to her nervous expression as she wrote the perjurious note, Spot knew she had not told anyone in her household about her sojourn in Brooklyn. Her reputation was on the line. So was his. If the police caught wind that an up-and-coming debutante was frequenting his territory, there would be questions asked and much unwanted attention.

Despite these dilemmas, one fact remained. Zee was sick, and she wasn't going to get any better without Kate. Spot couldn't deny that even his most loyal followers would prefer her care to his; she had a certain kindhearted quality about her, despite her tendency to object to his every thought and wish.

She didn't swoon over his dangerous good looks. The night of the party, he had given her plenty of opportunities to play the damsel in distress, but she seemed to despise that role.

She wasn't self-conscious around him. In fact, she seemed indifferent to whether he was there at all. She went about her business as she liked, efficiently and decisively.

He had to admit that he had felt a brief surge of pride when Trip told him that the richest girl in New York was staying in his lodging house; however, the overwhelming reminder of liability had swiftly curtailed his billowing pride.

The dock creaked sorrowfully and Spot knew in an instant that his momentary solitude had vanished. He readied himself to face the world.

"'Ey boss," West greeted as he completed his unhurried jaunt to reach his leader. For Spot to be awake at such an unanticipated hour, West knew something had caught his attention.

"Whaddaya need," Spot asked languidly, maintaining his fixation on the murky waters.

"I been hearin' some a da new boys 'ave been crossin' ovah ta Queens territory ta sell. Madock ain't too 'appy 'bout it. Says if he sees any Brooklyn newsie on 'is territory, 'e'll soak 'em an' anybody from Brooklyn dat comes along."

Spot stood in silence for a moment.

"We don' need more problems wit Queens. Tell all 'a them that if they cross ovah inta Queens, I'll let Madock have at 'em. No questions asked. They've been warned," Spot said resolutely.

West nodded in agreement. Unsure what reaction his consequent question would elicit, he began cautiously. "What did Trip find out about the girl?"

Spot's brow furrowed instantaneously. "Nothin'," he said curtly.

"Nothin'?" West echoed.

"What, did I not say it clear 'nough for ya?" Spot said fiercely as he turned to West.

"Sorry, boss," West mumbled.

Spot resumed his preoccupation with the sea. "She's probably jist anotha one 'a them rich kids."

West wanted to avoid further agitating his leader. "Shoah," he replied complacently.

Spot tore his gaze from the sea. "Let's go to tha races. I got a tip on a horse that Race don' know nothin' about," Spot said to West. West nodded.

That silent walk to the Manhattan racetrack was much farther than West ever remembered.

* * *

><p>Kate was walking towards Brooklyn with a woven basket full of meal fixings. She had left the mansion early and drifted towards Washington Market in a somnambulant stupor. She was dressed down in a cranberry red floral shirt and olive green skirt, blending in naturally with the morning crowds and their labor apparel. She traversed the market skillfully, purchasing all necessary ingredients and deftly managing the growing crowds.<p>

Finished with her errand, she walked resolutely through Brooklyn. Determination concentrated in her brow, arms gripping the basket tightly in thought. Stinging red spots prickled her skin from the basket bristles, but she paid them no mind. Today, she had a mission.

Kate opened the front door to the lodging house, relieved to find the building deserted. She set out all of her carefully chosen supplies on the kitchen counter and went upstairs to visit her patient. Kate opened the door and Zee sat up as if at attention. Kate was surprised to see that the girl actually looked relieved to see her.

Kate freely set her books on the corner table. "Hey there, desperado. How are you feeling today?"

Zee hesitated for a moment, and then offhandedly shrugged her shoulders. "'Bout da same as yestahday. Spot made me eat dose stale crackahs, so thanks a load," she said saucily.

Zee couldn't see Kate's eyebrow rise in silent laughter. "At least someone around here can make you do what you ought to," Kate said as she organized her things with her back to Zee.

Zee scowled as Kate turned around for a moment. "Oh, don't sulk. You'll get something much better today. We're going to get the meat back on your bones in a couple days," Kate said affirmatively, buzzing around the room, organizing the few scattered items.

Finally settling down in her chair, Kate turned to Zee and looked her directly in the eyes for first time that day. "So, where did we leave off?" she asked as she opened her book.

That morning they finished the novel. By the last page, Zee had crawled out from under the graying, threadbare sheets and was looking over Kate's shoulder as she read. As the last written word fell heavy through the clammy air, Zee sat back, staring at the closed book in Kate's hands.

Out of the soundless air, Zee asked suspiciously, "Dat's a bunch a bull. Are dere really guys like dat, stealin' from rich folks?"

Kate gently placed the book on the bedside table. "Of course there are. I've seen them."

Zee's eyes dilated to the size of the outside sun, but she quickly checked herself. Leaning back against the pillows once more and crossing her arms, she asked skeptically, "Really?"

"Absolutely. I can tell you all about them," Kate offered, smirking and looking at the girl out of the corner of her eye. "Only if you're interested, of course."

Zee glanced indecisively around her. "Shoah," she replied after a pause.

Kate nodded. "Alright. I suppose we should start from the beginning."

Hours came and went without as much as an adieu. Kate regaled Zee with stories of her early life in South Carolina; stories of her mother, her father, her sister, her horses, her cowboy dreams. How her father had taught her to build a barn with her own two hands, how her mother taught her to make the best pies in the county. Zee was transfixed; the only sound that sprang from her dry lips was the few encouraging questions she insisted on during the narrative.

Kate attempted to close her chronicle. "So in the end, the man with the missing eye was working for the Wheeler gang."

"Well, what did yer pa do?" Zee asked, enthralled.

Kate hesitated, but kept the smile on her face. "My father was furious when he realized some scum hired by that ruffian was traipsing around his farm, appraising it for sale to the government."

"Yeah, but what did 'e do?" Zee pressed.

Kate lowered her eyes and hesitated for a moment. "My father fought him."

"But he beat 'im, right?" Zee assumed confidently.

Kate had hoped the story wouldn't get to this point. "No," she said candidly after a pause, as she rose from her chair.

Zee knew that this was the end of the story. She kept her gaze on her skittish fingers.

Kate stood and examined the girl for a moment. "Hey, we've all got our sob stories. Don't worry about it," she said mercifully.

Zee looked up. It took her a moment, but she returned Kate's smile.

Kate gave her a complicit wink. "I'm going to go make some real cowboy food." Kate reached inside her leather bag to bring out three books and laid them next to Zee. "These are for you. You'll be okay by yourself for a bit, right?"

"Yeah," Zee said indifferently. Kate walked to the door and turned around. She smiled nostalgically at Zee, bent over the three books like they were her only possessions in the world.

* * *

><p>Spot smelled something peculiar that evening as he and West made their way to the lodging house. It was not the usual marine malodor from the docks or the rank smell of sweat from adolescent boys. It was something entirely different, and Spot couldn't place it.<p>

Suspicious, he flung open the door of the lodging house. Every face dutifully turned to acknowledge him. Each face staring back was expected, but what was sitting in front of them was not. Silently circling around his newsies, he saw mismatched bowls of steaming food in front of them. West looked at the famished boys, then back to his leader.

Spot marched up the stairs and pitched the door to Zee's interim quarters open.

"What's this?" Spot asked, baffled.

Zee looked up quickly from her bowl and gave him a genuine smile. "Pork 'n beans. It's a real cowboy dinnah," she said, glowing.

Spot gave her a disbelieving look. "Where is she?" he asked.

Zee thought for a moment. "Not shoah. She was heah a minute ago," she said as she shrugged.

Spot turned on his heel and left Zee to her dinner. He stood in the hallway, listening to the newsies as they resumed their meal.

Straining his ears over the sounds of satiety, he heard a soft noise, no louder than faintly falling leaves, come from the far stairwell. He knew exactly where she was.

He reached the top of the staircase and opened the door on his right. Spot saw her back stiffen imperceptibly as he opened the door, but she made no move to confront him. The music was clear as a bell; the sad notes wafted downwards like snow blanketing the barren winter trees. The contrast between the hyperborean music and the outside swelter made his head spin.

After a moment, the song came to a nostalgic close. Kate turned to acknowledge her audience.

"Did you make that stuff?" Spot asked coolly.

Kate shrugged. "It depends. Are you going to kick me out if I did?"

"No."

Kate returned his impassive stare. "Then yes, I did."

Spot stood regarding her. Kate turned and reached for an object resting on the top board of the piano. She picked it up gently and brought it over to him. "Here, this is for you," she said as she handed him a warm bowl of her culinary concoction. Spot looked at the bowl for a full minute in silence.

Kate broke his reverie. "Thanks for not telling anyone about my father," she said.

"How d'ya know I didn'?" Spot questioned, suspicious of her sudden gratitude.

Kate grinned. "John Abbott has been my father long enough for me to know when people have found out about his money. They either suffocate you with flattery or stay as far away as possible," she divulged. "The boys were indifferently polite."

Spot nodded, and Kate passed by him on her way out of the room. Halfway out the door, Kate turned and said, "You should eat that soon. It's awful cold." Then she was gone.

Spot stepped through the hallway to his room for the night, bowl in hand. Staring out the window into the purple evening, cozy aromas reaching for his aching nose, he realized how much he had missed a warm meal.


	10. Chapter 10

Thank you everyone for reading! I hope you are enjoying the story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

* * *

><p>The summer days passed tranquilly in Brooklyn for Kate. She spent her time talking with Zee, who had surprisingly warmed up to her enough to have full conversations. They talked about all manner of things; from cowboys to apples to ballerinas. As the days grew longer and summer faded into autumn, the pink gradually returned to Zee's mischievous cheeks, but her rash continued to cause her unceasing agony. Kate tried all sorts of homemade salves and remedies for Zee's torture, but nothing seemed to bring any relief.<p>

It had been about a week since Kate had left Manhattan to watch over Zee. Besides her brief visit to the mansion, she hadn't returned, and was glad to have a brief respite from her overbearing aunt. Although she missed her father greatly, she assured Spot that Emmalee told her he was busy dealing with new business ventures and hadn't had much time to spend at the mansion. Kate was convinced that no one in the mansion would be sending out search parties; the help certainly wouldn't rat her out and her aunt wouldn't care if she was lost in Timbuktu.

Kate found herself running into Spot more and more often, despite their rocky beginning. Every day before the morning edition, he would run into Kate in the hallway and ask her about Zee's condition. Every night when he returned, he would go and check on her himself. His snappy tone with Kate never really changed, but she could see the soft light in his eyes when he was around Zee. Zee's reaction to Spot's visits was altogether the opposite. The moment Spot entered through that ever more familiar door, Zee would put on her tough-as-nails face and bitingly sarcastic demeanor. Kate usually took this as her cue to exit and would sit on the lodging house roof for a while, reading her dime novels. By the time she had wandered back down to the sick room, Spot was always gone and Zee was half asleep.

Spot's life, on the other hand, continued to get more complicated. Since the day he went to the racetrack with Spot, West had been forced to soak a couple of kids for selling in Queens territory. Luckily, Madock hadn't caught any of them yet, so their injuries were relatively minor. Those punished never ventured back into Queens, with the exception of one: Cato. Despite a particularly rough beating by West, Cato continued to intentionally cross the boundary into Queens. West desperately wanted to talk with Spot about what should be done with Cato, but so far he hadn't had a chance. Spot went off by himself more and more lately, and when he was at the lodging house he would hole himself up in his room after visiting Zee. West resolved that today would be the day; he would catch Spot as he left his room. He couldn't escape him them.

West's plan didn't go as he had planned. Spot walked out of his bedroom door faster than West could prepare himself, causing him to stumble and stammer after his leader, who kept up his fast pace.

"Spot –" West said, attempting to catch Spot's attention.

Spot ignored West's entreaty. He saw Kate walking down the hallway towards the washroom and made a beeline for her. Kate turned around when she heard him approaching. Knowing precisely what he was going to ask, she beat him to the punch, "She's doing fine. Tomorrow she might even be able to walk around the lodging house a bit."

Spot nodded. Kate continued, "By the way, I'm planning on going to the market today. I need to buy a couple things."

"Yeh shouldn' be goin' out by yerself," Spot said decisively.

"I'll be fine," Kate tried to persuade him, but he would not budge.

"No. I'll leave Dom here. He kin take ya." He turned to walk down the stairs.

"It's a waste of time!" Kate yelled after him, but he was already out the door. She looked at West, who gave her a brief look of sympathy before rushing down the stairs after Spot. Shaking her head, she walked back to Zee's room.

West tried once more to call after Spot, who didn't bother to turn around. "What d'ya want, West. I ain't got time fer this."

"I gotta talk to yeh 'bout Cato," West finally blurted out.

Maintaining his stride, Spot called back, "What about 'im?"

"See –" was all West managed to get out before he was stopped by the entire contents of the Brooklyn Lodging House. He turned to look at Spot, who was glaring in great concentration at something just ahead of them. Peering above all the heads of his fellow newsies, West saw what all the commotion was about. Madock and several Queens newsies, including Cole, were standing resolutely in front of them, menacing looks on their faces. West could tell they wanted to do more than talk.

Spot stepped out in front of everyone to face the antagonizing group. "Pretty ballsy of yeh ta come all the way ovah heah, Madock," Spot said, eyes like steel. "Yeh bettah have a good reason fer botherin' me this early in the mornin'."

Madock's face tightened and he pursed his lips. "I warned yeh Conlon. I catch any a yer boys in Queens territory and they're gonna get it. That punk ovah theah," Madock said venomously, pointing at Cato, "'as crossed the boundary one too many times. I want ya ta hand 'im ovah."

West looked at Cato during the exchange: the boy's face, normally arrogant and disinterested, had turned paper white.

Spot looked hard at Madock. "Ain't no way, Madock," he said without hesitation.

Madock didn't appear surprised. "Have it yer way, Conlon. Are ya really willing to risk a territory war 'cause of that shrimp?" Everyone turned to look at Cato, who had now turned a bright shade of red.

"Get outta here, Madock, befoah I get yeh out meself."

Madock smirked. "I'll be seeing ya, Conlon. You kin bet on that," he said, pointing his finger directly at Spot before turning around with his crew.

Cole was the last to turn back, and Spot noticed he was staring concertedly at the second floor window. Remembering the party in Queens and the incident at the circus, Spot felt his body fill with rage.

"Get yer ugly face outta heah, Cole. I ain't gonna warn ya twice," Spot spit out protectively.

Cole turned and glared, but did not retort as he joined his fellow newsies on the retreat.

Spot faced his newsies. "Yer all gonna sell wit a partner until we get this mess straightened out, got it?" he said authoritatively. All the boys nodded solemnly.

Spot turned to West, who had made his way to the front of the group. "Somethin' yeh wanted ta tell me, West?" Spot asked sarcastically, before turning hard on his heel and leaving them all speechless.

* * *

><p>"You look kind of tired today, kid," Kate said as she cleaned up around Zee's room a bit.<p>

"Me rash was itchin' real bad last night," Zee confirmed. As if a tortuous reminder, Zee began itching her arms thoroughly. Kate pulled out one of her collection of salves from a dresser drawer and held it out to Zee. Her offer was met with a death glare.

"Fine, but it certainly wouldn't hurt," Kate warned. Zee maintained her defiant stare. The girl's determination made Kate smile. "I'm going to go to the market for a bit. I'll be back in about an hour, okay?"

"Yea, yea, I got it," Zee replied, rolling her eyes.

Kate ruffled her greasy hair. "Alright, see you later desperado."

Sneaking down the stairs to the common room, Kate made sure to go out the back door she had discovered on one of her many explorations of the lodging house. She knew Dom would be waiting at the front door, as no one would expect her to know of the other unused exit. Cringing at the creak of the opening door, Kate stepped out into the biting morning air. She made her way around the perimeter of the building and sure enough, Dom was standing guard at the front door. She walked quietly away from the lodging house until she knew she was out of his line of sight. Of course, she was aware she was deliberately eliciting the wrath of Spot Conlon, but for a taste of some independence, she didn't particularly care.

Most of her life had been spent doing what she wanted, when she wanted. Living with the Abbotts wasn't too much of a stretch for her, as her father was indulgent with her and her aunt didn't care to spend the time thinking about her, much less worry about where she was. Living in the lodging house was a new experience for Kate. Spot had a tight hand around everything anyone said or did in the lodging house. Kate longed for freedom, yet felt strangely comforted by the protection she received under Spot's authority. Although she did not often agree with him, she respected Spot's leadership and recognized the loyalty he elicited from his newsies. There was no doubt in her mind that he would do anything to protect them.

Manhattan loomed ahead. Yes, Kate had told Spot she was going to the market, but she didn't tell him _which_ market. The variety of Washington Market tempted her culinary bone so that she couldn't resist. Besides, she reasoned with herself, she had already snuck out of the lodging house without Spot's permission. What would it matter which market she goes to if she's going to be yelled at anyways?

The market was bustling as usual; the fruits and vegetables from the local farms overspilling on the makeshift tables. Kate made her way through the familiar market, choosing only the choicest goods to purchase. She paid the vendors with the generous sum of money her father gave her weekly, with which she was expected to do whatever she liked. Before going to Brooklyn, she had never even made a dent in the money, storing it away out of disinterest, but she was glad to finally be using it for something useful.

The trip was short and sweet and before half an hour had passed, Kate was already on her way back to Brooklyn, content in the cool summery autumn air.

Had Kate turned around and looked carefully enough through the energetic crowd, she would have seen Carrie, glaring after her with deadly eyes. Nor did she see Carrie follow her every move back to Brooklyn.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

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><p>That night, as usual, the boys rolled in at around 5 o'clock and Kate served them their dinner. "Thank yous" abounded as they retrieved their bowls and sat down to eat. Kate looked for any opportunity to chat with them, but they were either too shy to talk to her or too interested in their food.<p>

Kate had been waiting for Spot to burst into Zee's room at any moment and berate her for not following his directions. Dom certainly would have told him that he hadn't seen her all day, and Spot was too smart to believe she didn't leave the lodging house. Nonetheless, he hadn't sought her out, so perhaps he really didn't know everything that happened in Brooklyn.

Spot rolled in to the lodging house after the sun had long gone down and only a few stragglers littered the common room. He went straight up to his room, with nary a word or a gesture to anyone. The events from the morning continued to disturb him. He was used to threats from other boroughs, but Cole's particular fixation with Kate unnerved him. Spot knew nothing but revenge would satisfy Cole's wounded pride. He stepped out onto the fire escape into the cool night air to collect his thoughts.

The transition from summer to autumn had been abrupt. It seemed that from one moment to the next the sun had lowered its intensity and released everything from its unbearable glare. Spot preferred autumn, as the chill of the autumn air made his skin tingle and kept him on his toes. Extreme heat made anyone and everyone complacent, and Spot knew complacency was dangerous. Cato had become too comfortable in Brooklyn, and Spot saw clearly what it has cost everyone.

The screech of an opening window brought him back. Below him, Kate stepped out onto the fire escape and leaned against the railing. Her honey-colored hair blew against her face as she closed her eyes and breathed in the night air.

"What, yer sick of bein' holed up in dat room already?" Spot asked sarcastically, startling her out of her reverie.

She looked up at him, confused at first by his presence, but then she smiled. "Try it sometime and then we'll talk," she retorted, making her way slowly up the fire escape stairs to where he was standing. Once she reached him, she sat on the edge of the windowsill, where he joined her.

For a moment, they remained silent, mutually enjoying the whispers of the passing wind.

"My pop always dreamed of coming to New York. It feels weird to be here without him," Kate said, the echoes of her voice escaping with the breeze.

Spot sat regarding the full moon. "How'd yer family die?" Spot asked after a pause.

His delivery was tactless, but Kate took a deep breath and began. "Well, when I was nine, a man my family knew fought and killed my father over our land. I'd always hated him," she said shaking her head slowly. "Sometimes you can tell, you know, when someone is bad news. He had become and outlaw not long before and wanted to get a prize for the gang leader." She paused for a moment, and the corner of her mouth lifted in a half-smile. "It sounds silly now, but I was convinced that I was going to hunt him down and make him pay for my father's death."

"Don' tell me yer a wanted woman," Spot said bemusedly.

"Nah," Kate replied. "Someone got to him first."

Spot's eyebrows raised in slight surprise. "What about yer ma?" he asked.

"She was never the same after. I mean, she took care of us, but it was like her soul had died, you know? I can't really blame her. That kind of stuff makes you quit life," Kate recounted, emotions running swiftly behind her eyes. "So when she and my baby sister Molly got sick, it was like she gave in to something she had been waiting for, a kind of relief." She breathed the night air deeply. "I tried my best to take care of them both, but how much can a sick kid do?"

It was clear the story ended there. Spot remained silent, staring ahead at some invisible scene. "Me ma left me for some guy," he said stoically. "Some hairy drunk. Jist left me at the orphanage an' that was it."

Kate turned to look at his profile, then back. Spot could see her nod in understanding out of the corner of his eye.

They sat that way for a few more silent moments. Kate finally rose. "I should probably go check on Zee," she said as she stood in front of him. At that moment, Spot was infinitely glad that she hadn't witnessed the confrontation from that morning.

She headed to the fire escape stairs once more.

"No more trips to Manhattan alone, alright?"

Surprised that she had been caught, Kate whipped her head around, mouth open. Realizing how silly she must look, she closed it quickly. "Good night," she said, embarrassed, and went down the stairs.

"'Night," Spot said to no one in particular.

He sat on the windowsill for a while after that, the night air prickling his skin.

* * *

><p>The Brooklyn newsies were just as alert the next day as they had been right after Madock's visit. Each and every newsie made sure to follow Spot's direction and sell in pairs; not only because of the danger if they didn't, but because they knew Spot's punishment would be comparable, if not worse, than getting caught by Madock.<p>

Spot sent out a birdie early in the morning to call on Manhattan. Jack was a good ally to have on your side, Spot knew. Once he started a fight, he never backed down. Besides, he and Davey were masters of strategy. Brooklyn had the bulk, but Manhattan had the brains. As much of a tightwad as Davey could be, Spot knew he'd need him if he was going to beat Queens quick and clean. Sure, Brooklyn could likely beat Queens in a territory war, but it was risky to go into battle without backup. Surely, Queens was looking to do the same.

The afternoon passed quickly for Spot, who was the only newsie to sell alone. He waited for Manhattan at the docks, leaning casually against a dock post, arms crossed. Through the blue evening air, Spot saw the tall figure of Jack emerge. He was accompanied by Davey, of course, but also by Blink and Racetrack.

"I heah yeh got quite the situation on yer hands, Spot," Jack said, spitting in his hand and offering it to Spot.

"Yeah, real treat it is," Spot replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes and offering his own hand. He nodded a greeting at the other boys and made to walk towards the lodging house. Jack joined him while the other boys followed slightly behind. Spot and Jack spoke seriously as they walked, keeping the same stride. Spot opened the lodging house door while the rest trailed in after him.

The Brooklyn newsies that were still awake and saw Spot come in with his guests quickly went up to bed. Meetings in Brooklyn were taken very seriously; if you weren't personally invited, you left, or you were personally escorted out by a swift kick in the pants.

Spot had planned to meet at a table at the far end of the common room. As he was walking, however, he heard shouting and laughing on his right, distinctly coming from the kitchen. Without saying a word, he went to the kitchen door and flung it open, Manhattan newsies close behind.

Laughing and dancing, dirty dishes in their hands, were Kate and Zee. They appeared to be singing a song to themselves as they washed, dancing to a silent rhythm. Spot had never seen Zee so much as whistle before, so this sudden outburst understandably surprised him. The Manhattan newsies looked curiously upon the scene, unsure how to react.

During one of their simultaneous spins, Kate and Zee both turned and were startled to see they had an audience. They both stopped dancing and returned the boys' stare. No one moved for a long moment. Unable to bear the tension, Kate and Zee turned to each other and laughed, which startled the boys even more. The Zee Spot knew would have pulled at her short hair nervously and bitten her stubbly nails, ashamed to be caught doing something so juvenile. The two girls resumed their improvised performance and Spot was forced to close the door behind him, a confused look still distorting his features as he led the group to his original destination.

West joined them after they had sat down, greeting each familiar newsie in turn. They talked heatedly for over an hour, each one giving his perspective on the conflict. Naturally, Jack promised Spot that Manhattan would have Brooklyn's back, but he was emphatic about their need to be smart. Davey sat and listened quietly during most of the conversation, nodding in agreement at certain ideas.

"We gotta hit 'em wheah it hurts," Jack said vigorously. "Othawise they won't evah back down."

Spot nodded, considering every possibility.

"Boss," West said cautiously. "What 'bout Finch?"

"What about 'im?" Spot asked.

"Well, 'e works at the Queens Distribution Centah. What if we cut off Queens supply 'a papes? Finch owes me a favah, I don' think he'd say no," West said hopefully.

The boys considered the idea for a moment.

"That's it then," Spot said finally. "They won' need to worry 'bout territory if they ain't got papes ta sell."

The Manhattaners nodded in agreement. The kitchen door creaked open and out came Zee and Kate. As soon as Zee saw Blink she stopped dead in her tracks and her face turned crimson. Noticing the girl's reaction, Kate smiled knowingly and pushed her along.

"Sorry to bother you all, we were just going upstairs," she said, addressing the group.

"Heya Zee," Blink said happily to the blushing girl.

"Hey," Zee said softly, her eyes on the floor. Blink looked confused at her reaction.

"Well, see ya 'round," Zee said as she ran up the stairs, Kate running after her. "It would have been nice to meet you all!" Kate shouted behind her.

"So who's dis yeh got livin' in yer lodging house now, Spot?" Race asked curiously. "She shoah ain't as ugly as the otha ones," Race muttered.

"Git off it, ya dolt," Spot said as he smacked Race on the arm. "She's takin' care 'a Zee," Spot said simply, clearly not wanting to discuss it. Had it been anyone else he was talking to, Race would have persisted all night long, but he knew how protective Spot was of his "people," so he asked no more.

West brought out the pack of cards he always kept in his left pocket and dealt everyone a hand. Spot considered it a good sign for the imminent war when he won every hand.


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you, lovely reviewers! You sure know how to brighten up a slow day :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

* * *

><p>The plan was set in motion the next day. Spot sent his fastest messenger to Queens to tell Finch to meet them on the Brooklyn Bridge. Sure as the sun rises, Spot and West watched as Finch crossed the bridge with his lanky gait, swinging his long arms by his sides. Finch's hazel eyes were wide and his freckles hinted at his days in the sun. As he approached the two Brooklyn boys he clumsily stuck out his hand.<p>

"Well, heya guys," he said, nodding his head unconsciously and smiling. "Didn' evah tink you'd be askin' fer me. I feel kinda honored-like, yeh know."

"Listen, Finch," Spot began. "West heah tells me yeh owe 'im a favah. We're cashin' in."

Finch's enthusiastic expression faded immediately. "Well, uh, what is it exactly dat yeh need?" he asked suspiciously, his eyes darting between the two boys.

Spot waited for West – who was staring blankly at Finch – to begin. It took a cough and a nudge from Spot for West to get the hint. "Oh, uh yeah. Ahem," West cleared his throat. "Finch, we're plannin' on cuttin' off Queens. We need yeh ta block da sale of papes to da Queens newsies."

Finch's eyes appeared to be trying to escape their sockets. Spot watched as Finch started rubbing his hands absentmindedly together, his face draining of its pinkish color.

Finch laughed nervously. "Well, uh, jeez guys, I . . . I don' know if I kin do that," he said anxiously, his trembling hands now roaming through his raggedy light brown hair.

"We ain't askin', Finch," Spot said with deadly seriousness.

Finch looked desperately at West for some sort of relief, but Spot's second-in-command had the same severe expression. "I didn' get yer brother out a dat fix fer nothin', Finch."

As if it were possible, Finch's face went even whiter. Spot smirked, as he knew the cat was out of the bag and there was no way Finch could refuse.

"What exactly is it dat yeh want me ta do wit da papes?" Finch asked.

"Burn 'em, eat 'em, we don' care, jist get rid of 'em, alright?" Spot said impatiently.

"Yeah, but what if dey find out it's me? Dey'll kill me!"

"Don' worry, kid. We'll tie yeh up an' make like yeh put up a fight. 'Sides," Spot continued, "we don' want yeh gettin' any credit. They need ta know it was Brooklyn that got 'em good."

Finch still looked doubtful, but his shoulders relaxed for a brief moment. "Alright, but only 'cause yeh helped me brother out dat one time," Finch conceded, looking at West.

"Tamarra," Spot said menacingly, "it bettah be done."

Finch nodded silently, spit shook with the boys and left for Queens once again. Spot and West gave each other approving nods before walking back to the lodging house. Once all the boys were back in the lodging house for the evening, Spot informed them of the plan. No one was allowed out of the lodging house the next day without Spot's personal permission. They were all to play a part in the game, and with all the risks, Spot didn't want to have any of his boys out from under his wings.

Kate and Zee minded their own business as usual, but Spot could tell that Kate could sense something was going on. When she and Zee left the kitchen after cleaning the mountain of dirty dishes created by dozens of hungry boys, she looked around with suspicious eyes. Of course, all the boys had stopped talking by then, but the misgiving in her eyes was clear enough. Spot had decided to exclude her from any of the plans from the beginning. She had no business in the newsie world; her job was to take care of Zee and that was it. True, she hadn't yet asked, but Spot knew she was trying to deduce what was going on. Her curious side was powerful when it wanted to be, as evidenced by her act with the cop that day in the park.

The next day, Spot woke the boys earlier than usual. They conducted a brief meeting in the common room before leaving the lodging house into the foggy morning air.

Across town in Queens, Finch's bones were rattling. His slender fingers cracked one another as he looked nervously around the Queens Distribution Center – "Dey should be heah any second," he thought to himself, not sure if he was more nervous to see the Brooklyn leader again or to get caught betraying his own. He had thrown all the papes for the day in the East River, hoping that no one would pass by and see the soggy material. Finch started to get nervous that he had betrayed his own borough for nothing and that Spot wouldn't show up. Luckily - or perhaps not - Spot arrived at the exact moment they had agreed upon the day before. Finch assured him the plan had been taken care of, and Spot tied his hands behind his back, gagged his mouth with a sock – Finch wasn't too happy about that – and backhanded him across the cheek. As he was incapable of speaking, Finch let out a series of grunts, his angry eyes saying all that was muffled by the tattered bit of clothing in his mouth.

"Look, they gotta believe that yeh weren' involved right? They won' believe it unless there's proof. Dat shina right there," Spot said, pointing to Finch's purpling eye, "is yer proof. Now quit yer yappin', alrigh'?"

Finch continued to glare at Spot, but he was too busy calculating his next moves to care. He left Finch alone in the distribution office and found his boys once more.

"Let's see what those scabbahs do now that they ain't got nothin' ta sell," he said icily. All the boys hid deftly wherever they could; some behind trash cans, some on low balconies, some in alleys. Spot didn't want Queens to see them before he wanted to be seen; Brooklyn was in control now, and he wanted Madock to know it. Only Spot and West stood out in plain sight, ready for the inevitable confrontation.

As if by clockwork, the Queens newsies lined up for their daily papers. After about fifteen minutes of waiting, the first to arrive grew restless and banged on the wooden closure of the office, between metal bars. Confused by Finch's tardiness – he hadn't been late once in his life – the boys began banging on the office door. Now a commotion began, as the group of boys grew larger and more belligerent, pounding and pushing against the door. Unable to hold itself against the boys' pressure, the door gave way as several Queens newsies tumbled to the floor.

This was exactly what Spot had wanted. A couple Brooklyn newsies laughed quietly at the scene, but Spot sent them an icy glare that quickly ruined their cheer.

Several newsies climbed over those who had fallen, and although it was dark inside the distribution office, they managed to find Finch. They unceremoniously pulled him out, still tied and gagged, and set him down in front of the office for everyone to see. One merciful boy untied his binds and freed him from his grotesque gag. The Queens newsies looked at one another for answers none of them had. The boy who had untied Finch bent down to his level.

"What happened ta yeh, Finch?" he asked.

Before Finch could reply, Madock came running, having been alerted by one of the boys who had seen the spectacle from the back of the line.

"What's goin' on heah?" Madock said angrily, eyes narrowing at all those around him, who flinched away in fear.

"Da papes are gone," Finch said in a low voice, trembling at Madock's palpable anger.

Madock looked at Finch for a long moment. "What d'ya mean, da papes are gone?"

"What, Madock, did yeh think yeh'd get away wit threatin' one a my newsies?" Spot asked casually, arms folded and leaning against a brick wall nearby.

It was quite clear that none of the Queens newsies had expected the surprise attack. They all looked at each other, silently asking if the other knew what was going on. Madock glared at Spot with burning eyes.

"What the hell are yeh doin' heah, Conlon," he said in a lethal tone.

Spot smirked. "Givin' yeh a personal look at what happens when yeh mess wit Brooklyn."

Spot's last comment set Madock off. He rushed the Brooklyn leader, signaling his newsies to follow. Spot continued to lean lazily against the wall as Madock ran towards him; his insufferable smirk never leaving his face. As the Queens newsies approached, Brooklyn attacked. Slingshots appeared seemingly out of nowhere; rocks were shot, punches were thrown. Madock, of course, was the first to reach Spot, who smiled as he pulled out his cane. He swung and hit Madock square in the stomach, causing him to bowl over momentarily. The blow was not strong enough to take Madock out of the fight, however, because the Queens leader rose and swung a tight fist at Spot's face. Spot ducked the blow adeptly, but a kick to the shin caused him to lose his step. He stumbled and Madock was able to land a blow on Spot's shoulder. Reeling in pain, Spot quickly regained his balance and sent a hook into Madock's stomach.

The battle raged on, each boy fighting his enemy counterpart. Although Brooklyn had the slight upper hand of surprise, Queens was doing a decent job of holding their own. After ten minutes of fighting, it was not clear who the winner would be. Statistically, Queens had more newsies than Brooklyn, but the Brooklyn boys were experienced fighters.

Out of the corner of his eye, West saw Madock signal to another newsie as he was bowled over clutching his stomach. West watched as the signal went from one newsie to another, like a telephone line connecting at different ports. Recognizing the danger of the quickly moving message, he tried to fight his way over to Spot and Madock.

Obstacles blocked his every route, as boys fell over left and right and slingshots made the way nearly impossible without receiving a pelt to the head. Despite the action, West kept a close eye on Spot and Madock while trying to clear the way.

A sharp yell caused everyone, Queens and Brooklyn, to stop for a moment and turn. Out from behind the nearby lodging house stepped a small but fierce looking group of older boys. Missing teeth and gold rings peppered the group as a sickening smile spread across Madock's face. These boys were not newsies, Spot knew; they were street thugs Madock convinced to help him out of a trap he knew Brooklyn would set for him.

Brooklyn knew the odds had fall out of their favor, and it showed in their wide eyes. Spot, however, remained determined. The menacing group walked forward slowly, fists beating their open palms in an evident threat of the pain to come. The Brooklyn boys, eager to finish off the Queens newsies before approaching their new enemies, went back to fighting as the air grew tenser by the second.

The moment the first of the thugs reached the Brooklyn boys, the vast majority of the Queens newsies up and ran, taking advantage of the momentary distraction. Madock and a few strong fighters stayed behind, knowing that although their back ups were tough, their small number wouldn't be enough to beat the legendary fighters of Brooklyn.

The Brooklyn newsies did their best, but fighting the thugs required completely different tactics from newsies fights. Real, intentional violence was what they needed, and they looked to Spot for direction. Spot caught Madock off guard with a hard right hook that sent him flying to the ground. Spot stood triumphantly over Madock and whistled. The thugs and Queens newsies alike looked around, hoping to spot Brooklyn's allies before they hit.

Out of the dark and long-forgotten distribution office stepped Jack Kelly and Manhattan's best fighters. The duel between the two boroughs had been evenly matched, but now the Manhattan newsies, coupled with Brooklyn, clearly outnumbered Queens and their thug friends. Although now clearly worried at being outnumbered, the thugs and few Queens newsies that remained continued battling against the spry Brooklyn newsies and their Manhattan allies.

Unfortunately for Queens, gold rings and bulging muscles do not a victor make. With the help of Manhattan, Brooklyn speedily overtook Queens. Laying the heel of his shoe on Madock's forehead, Spot concluded the battle. "Checkmate," he said arrogantly as he pushed the Queen's leader's head to the ground with his foot and walked away. Cole, who had been trying to fight Dom – one of Brooklyn's strongest – went over to his leader to help him up as Brooklyn and Manhattan left the scene of their destruction. Madock forcefully pushed Cole's outstretched hand away, as the remaining Queens newsies looked at their leader with fear in their eyes. Certainly, this was not the outcome they had expected. The thugs left Queens to nurse their wounds.

Madock sat up of his own accord, grimacing as he moved. Cole looked concernedly at his leader, who was glaring at the back of Spot's checkered shirt as they made their victory march back to Brooklyn.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

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><p>The Queens newsies lay in their beds, nursing their varying degrees of wounds in silence. Madock sat alone, stewing the common room over his public defeat, his hands gripping the wooden table with white knuckles.<p>

Madock had berated Cole after the fight. Shame-faced and embarrassed about his role in Queens's defeat, Cole had quietly accepted Madock's insults before imperceptibly slipping outside into the velvety night. His shame punctured him deeply, from which anger and bitterness inevitably arose. The fight had not been solely between Queens and Brooklyn as it had in the past; this time, they brought Manhattan into the mix, which greatly broadened the scope of ruin. Newsies all over New York were sure to talk of it as soon as the sun glimmered slowly on the horizon. Sure, Cole knew Queens had used back up as well, but those were nobodies in the newsie world. State-wide embarrassment was surely worse than physical defeat.

Vengeance was the only cure for Cole's terrible sickness.

Although normally a very shallow and self-absorbed young man, Cole's cunning must have sharpened during the night. He made his way to Brooklyn - the enemy's nest - knowing that would be the last place anyone would expect a Queens newsie to go after such a humiliating blow. Cole knew Madock and Spot had a long history together, and that Madock would never pursue outright revenge so soon after a defeat. They were the leaders of the two toughest boroughs in New York, but there were rules. Winners were allowed to gloat in their victory, while losers buried themselves in their shame and sorrow. The score was always evened in the end, but never as a personal revenge.

Cole felt the loss personally this time. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the girl with the honey-colored was in Spot's lodging house for inexplicable reasons, or the fact that Spot looked at him with death in his eyes when Cole caught sight of her in the window, but Cole was out for revenge.

The soft thumping of his heels on the cobblestones was the only sound heard on the lonely streets as he passed. The wind was cold, but Cole didn't feel the goosebumps spreading across his bare arms as he walked determinedly towards his destination.

The light emanating from the front door of the Brooklyn Lodging House shone brightly in the dark night. Cole stopped for a moment to regard the building. The light, along with the laughter coming from the lodging house that was clearly audible through the silence, made Cole's skin prickle. His anger returned more forcefully than before as he squeezed his fists tightly at his side. He still didn't know what he was going to do, but he knew he had to do something. That way, Madock would have his vengeance with clean hands.

Just as Cole stepped forward towards the shining door, he saw the shadow of another figure just to the left of the door, further darkened in contrast to the brightness coming from the door. Cole let his eyes adjust to the darkness again, and saw that the figure was quite small. He moved quietly towards the silhouette, careful not to disturb its silence. Once he was about five feet away, he realized it was a girl. Not the girl with the honey-colored hair, no – it was someone else, and by the looks of her, she didn't belong in Brooklyn. The girl was looking up at the same window through which he had seen the girl with the honey-colored hair days before. He maintained his distance in case of an ambush, but called out forcefully, "What're yeh doin' heah?"

The girl let out a shrill yelp as she whipped herself around to face her attacker. Cole saw that she was breathing hard and confirmed his belief that she was where she wasn't supposed to be.

She stood clutching her chest and gaping at him in the dark, eyes wide open with fear. Cole looked at her, then at the window she had been so diligently observing a moment before. He saw a silhouette pass by the illuminated curtains covering the window. He knew it must have been the girl.

"Are you lookin' fer 'er too?" he asked suspiciously, cocking his head a bit to the side and furrowing his brow. As soon as he had spoken, the girl appeared to relax and Cole could even detect a slight smile on her face.

"What did she do to you?" the girl asked, lowering her hands from her chest and relaxing her defensive stance.

"She turned me down," he said angrily, remembering the night. "Then she ran off with that rat Conlon."

The girl looked at Cole calculatingly. She held out her dainty hand. "My name is Carrie Morgan," she lied. "With whom do I have the pleasure?"

Cole looked at her, confused by her sudden charm. "Cole," he said simply. He realized he hadn't taken her hand and clumsily reached for it. Carrie looked at him with a slightly disgusted expression, and pulled her hand away.

Cole felt her repulsion and grew bitter. "Well, what did she do ta you?"

Carrie's face hardened. "It doesn't matter. I need to get her out of my way for a little bit, and I want you to help me."

Cole felt a shiver run down his spine like a slowly melting drop of ice. "Out of yer way?" he asked naively.

Carrie rolled her eyes. "Look, her father is John Abbott, the richest man in New York. He's ill and it doesn't like he's going to get better anytime soon. I'll make sure you get something good out of the deal."

"What exactly do yeh want me ta do?" Cole asked, his face unsure.

"One of the servants is coming to Brooklyn as we speak to warn her of her father's illness. When she goes to visit him, as I know she will, I need you to kidnap her." Carrie saw Cole's eyes widen in shock. She knew he was surprised that such a dainty little girl was asking him to do something only hardened criminals would even consider doing, but she wasn't about to take any chances. "Trust me, you'll get a hefty reward in the end."

Cole continued to look at her skeptically. She continued talking, unfazed. "She'll probably go at night; she doesn't like anyone to know what she's doing. She's sneaky like that," Carrie said with disdain. "You should probably get her then. Her father is used to her being gone for days, but he'll undoubtedly get suspicious if she's gone for more than that."

"Who are yeh, exactly?" Cole blurted out.

"Someone who wants to help you," Carrie said nodding her head reassuringly.

Cole thought for a moment. Carrie felt a slight pang of doubt at having told him her plan, but was instantly relieved when he nodded his head in assent.

"Alright, I'll do it."

Carrie's lip turned up slyly. "Excellent," she said. "You'll want to bring someone with you – I've seen her fight and she's not half bad. Let's see… Emmalee will be here shortly to tell Kate the news… So she will probably go to see him tomorrow night. Make sure you're ready, because this is our only chance."

Cole nodded his head at Carrie's direction without interjection. She continued, "Now where are you from?" Cole told her. "Good. Once you get her back to Queens, make sure nothing happens to her. We don't need the police involved in this. I just need her to be away from her father long enough before he kicks the bucket for him to think she ran away. And make sure that Brooklyn kid doesn't get suspicious, either. Got it?" she asked brusquely. "Come find me once you have her. I need to know how this is going."

Cole nodded once more. "Don' worry Miss Morgan, I got dis undah control."

Carrie smiled at him insincerely. "Thank you Cole dear, your help is much appreciated."

Carrie must have thought Cole was impressed by her, but Cole wasn't interested in Carrie's wiles. He simply wanted revenge on Conlon and that girl.

They said their brief goodbyes and Cole assured her she would have an update within a day.

They both smiled to themselves as they walked home.

* * *

><p>Manhattan and Brooklyn newsies alike flooded into the Brooklyn Lodging House that evening, heads held high and chests stuck out in confident victory. From Zee's window, Kate watched the boys file in, shaking her head as they strutted about. Although she didn't know the precise nature of the conflict, Spot's hard face and the boys' intelligent secrecy told her it was something serious. They had made it crystal clear they were not planning on telling Kate what had happened.<p>

Kate left Zee sleeping in the room to join the party downstairs. She stopped as she neared the bottom of the stairs, seeing chaos in its truest form; boys strewn across the room, drinks in hand, boasting amongst themselves. To her right, Kate saw a group playing a rowdy game of poker, their chips in disheveled piles on the dusty table. No one seemed to notice her as she stood paralyzed on the stairs.

"Shouldn' yeh be asleep by now?" someone behind her asked quietly but forcefully, his hot breath tickling her ear.

Kate turned to face him and rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, father. I think I can handle staying up a bit late."

Spot smirked as he continued to stare at her. The silence between them made her skin tingle with anxiety, so she resolved to break it. "Where exactly did you all go today?"

Spot looked at her for a moment. "That ain' none a yer business," he said, eyes never moving from hers.

Kate returned his forceful gaze. "Why do you do that?" she asked.

"Do what, sweetheart?" Spot asked indifferently.

She looked at him curiously. "One moment you're decent, the next you're insufferable," she said. Spot was surprised at her tone; instead of frustration, he heard genuine curiosity. She certainly was asking a question many had asked before her. "It's like you think I'm going to rat you out or something. Why are you so defensive around me?"

"Jist git a drink, sweetheart," he said before he walked past her down the stairs to re-join the celebration. Kate looked after him, as the boy she had overhead from the nighttime meeting was named Jack ambled over to Spot's side, giving him a congratulatory pat on the shoulder.

Kate continued to stand lonely on the steps, not entirely sure what to do or where to go. She had really left Zee's room out of curiosity, hoping she would find some clue to the delicate situation about which no one wanted to talk to her. After a couple of thoughtful moments, she took her first uncertain step towards the ruckus. The boy she had heard was named Racetrack appeared to have caught sight of her movement, as he moved away from where he and the rowdy group were playing poker and came towards her.

"Good ta finally meet ya," Race said with a wink. "The name's Racetrack, but you, my deah, may call me Race," said the boy as he bowed elegantly to Kate, taking off his newsboy cap and holding out his hand.

"Kate," she said with an odd expression, not used to such a genuinely charming introduction. Of course, many of the men she had met since living with the Abbotts were polite, but she always got the sense they knew she didn't belong among them. She gave Race her hand, which he promptly kissed, causing Kate to smile shyly.

"Care ta join us, Miss Kate? We're jist startin' a friendly game a pokah," he asked, signaling to the nearby table.

Kate shrugged her shoulders. "Sure," she said. The two walked over to the poker table and Race pulled out a chair for her. Kate whispered her thanks as Race took his own seat. Kate felt uncomfortable as everyone at the table turned to look at her as she took her seat. She tried to warn them off with a glare, but they were too intrigued to stop now.

Wanting to break the palpable tension in the air, Race asked, "So, Miss Kate. Yeh evah played pokah befoah?"

All the boys continued to stare. "No," she said. "I never learned how."

Race grinned broadly. "Well, allow me da pleasah of teachin' yeh," he said gallantly as he signaled for one of the boys to deal the cards.

The next hour was spent teaching Kate the basics of the game. She said nothing during the lesson, nodding her head at the appropriate times and glancing at her cards. For the first few rounds she simply watched the game and its progress, noting each player's facial ministrations as they picked up their cards. On the fourth round, Race asked if she wanted to join and she nodded. Kate delicately picked up the cards that were dealt to her as the other boys watched her discreetly. No matter how closely they looked, they did not see even a slight change in her vacant expression.

The round began. Kate's eyes vacillated solely between her cards and those on the table. Her hand was pretty good, but she knew the boys weren't expecting much of her. She was determined to surprise them; after all, she'd spent enough years practicing her poker face. She practiced first on the streets, ignoring the pitiful stares of passersby, and then with the Abbotts, blocking out her persistent feeling of inadequacy. Keeping a stone face when it came to cards was working out very well for her.

Every time it came to bet and Kate didn't fold, Race looked at her with eyes wide with surprise. The other boys just looked at her nervously, confused by her dexterity with their beloved cards. Kate could feel their nervousness through the table on which her elbows sat. She didn't need to look up to see their darting eyes to know that she was doing just fine.

And then it happened. The very last thing Kate ever thought would happen, especially at such a late hour. The Brooklyn Lodging House door burst open, ushering in a forceful blast of cool autumn air. Someone was there.


	14. Chapter 14

I want to sincerely thank everyone for reading and reviewing this story. Your reviews really brighten up my day! So thank you, thank you, thank you!

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

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><p>Unexpected visitors are never a good sign. Kate knew that from experience.<p>

So who was it that stood in the doorway captivating everyone's attention? As Carrie had predicted unbeknownst to Kate, it was Emmalee. Kate stared at the nervous woman, who was panting as if she had just crossed the English Channel. Everyone in the room was naturally perplexed at the woman's presence in their lodging house, as it became clear no one knew her or her intentions. Emmalee just stood there, timidly looking around the room for the person she was seeking. Frozen, Kate just stared at Emmalee from where she was sitting. The shriek of a chair across the floor rifted the hush diffusing throughout the room - Spot Conlon rose from where he had been sitting.

"What's yer business heah, lady?" he asked severely, deriving power from the fear and misunderstanding permeating the room. Kate turned her head when she heard his voice, which caught Emmalee's eye.

"Miss Abbott! Thank goodness I found you," she said hopefully. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, all heads in the room turned to focus on Kate. Emmalee realized she had made a mistake by speaking too soon and lowered her eyes. Not knowing the nature of the visit, the boys at the poker table jumped up from their seats as if ready to defend, while Kate continued to sit and stare.

Kate knew this wasn't a social visit. Emmalee would never risk a trip to Brooklyn to simply spill a bit of gossip or inform her of one of Aunt Clara's many punishments awaiting her. She didn't call out to Emmalee initially because she was afraid of the news she brought with her. Kate stood up slowly under the assiduous gaze of the newsboys, but particularly of one Spot Conlon.

"Emmalee, how did you find me?" she asked. She knew it was not the most pertinent question at the moment, but she didn't know where to begin.

Emmalee looked distressed at the question and appeared to have a difficult time formulating an answer. "Well, when that boy brought me the note you wrote I followed him back here, in case I ever needed to find you, Miss Kate." Kate nodded slowly. On the other side of the room, West's face paled considerably in embarrassment.

Spot walked from where he had been standing over to Kate. "Look, sweetheart, I don' need a situation on my hands. Git 'er outta heah," he said quietly to Kate, who nodded her head in agreement. She walked wordlessly over to the woman, gently took her hand and led her up to Zee's room. Spot waved his hands for the party to continue, but watched carefully as Kate climbed the stairs with the unfamiliar woman.

Once inside Zee's room, the tension between the two women increased. Kate didn't want to turn around and face Emmalee, and Emmalee didn't want to look at Kate. They stood silent for a few moments, each fiddling with their hands and looking at the ground. Finally, Kate plucked up her courage, lifted her head and asked, "What happened, Emmalee?"

A slow, salty tear ran down Emmalee's reddened cheek. She began quietly, having seen the sleeping girl in the bed. "Oh, Miss Abbott, I really didn't want to tell you. I thought he would get better and I... This is so difficult and I just - " she couldn't finish her thought before she broke down sobbing hysterically. Unused to such a blatant show of emotion, Kate stepped back from Emmalee, a frightened and confused look on her face. Realizing how heartless she appeared, Kate tried to stop the woman's tears. She took Emmalee's hands, which were covering her ruddy face, and held them in her own. "Emmalee, what aren't you telling me?"

Emmalee looked at her with tearful eyes for a moment, clearly only a moment away from sobbing once more. She choked out, "It's your father, Miss Abbott. He's got consumption."

Kate stepped back and dropped her hands. Emmalee looked at her with tears in her eyes, shaking from the strain of carrying such a heavy burden to the one she knew would hurt the most. Kate stared at the floor in disbelief, her hands shaking. Emmalee reached for her and she backed away, knowing she was hurting Emmalee's but not able to care. "Is he home?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, he's been in bed for a few days," Emmalee confirmed. "The doctors haven't left the house since they were called."

Kate nodded, but only slightly. "He's not going to make it, is he?" she finally asked. "That's why you're here, isn't it?"

Emmalee didn't have the strength to say anything, so she nodded her head. Kate grabbed at her hair, fingers pulling hard at the roots. Emmalee knew there was nothing she could say that would ease the pain of losing a father, especially the father that gave her a second chance at life. She felt for the girl that had spent her life with no real home.

"And Aunt Clara? Carrie?" Kate asked.

"Trying to make him forget you, I'm afraid, Miss Kate."

This was no surprise to Kate. Her aunt had spent every waking moment plotting against her since the day she arrived. Kate knew it was because of money - most family feuds were about such petty things. As her father had no other children, she stood to inherit his vast fortune - not that she wanted it. She saw how money ruined relationships and wanted no part of it, but she knew her aunt would do anything to maintain the lifestyle to which she had grown so accustomed.

"I'll go. I have to make sure Zee is alright, but I'll go. They can't keep me away from him," she said, looking forlornly at the girl with the rustled hair. Emmalee did not contradict her. Kate turned and hugged the woman. Although unexpected, Emmalee appreciated the gesture and hugged the girl back.

"Well, I best be back before Ms. Clara realizes I'm gone. Please, Miss Kate, if you need anything, let me know," she pleaded.

"Don't worry, Emmalee. I'll be fine. Please make sure you take care of Father, and I will see you soon, alright?"

Emmalee nodded her agreement. Kate walked with her down the stairs and past the party. Kate stopped once they reached the door, realizing something. "Emmalee, you can't walk back by yourself," she said gently. "Frankly, I'm not sure how you got here in the first place."

"Please, Miss Kate, don't worry yourself over me. I will make it back just fine," she smiled softly. Kate looked unconvinced, but eventually nodded.

Spot saw they were headed for the door and called one of his boys over. Low, so no one could hear, he asked him to follow the woman home. He didn't know who she was, but he wasn't about to let something happen to her on his territory - she obviously meant something to Kate.

Emmalee turned around to give Kate one last fleeting look before exiting the lodging house. The boys pretended to continue what they were doing, but everyone was discreetly looking at Kate to see what would happen. She gazed at the door for a moment more, then turned around and walked past everyone up the stairs to Zee's room once more.

Then silence.

"Alright, party's ovah, git outta heah!" Spot yelled, although he didn't need to. The boys had their fill of partying and the situation was getting a bit too awkward to continue enjoying the fun. They finished what they were doing and slowly filed out the front door. Spot waited until all the Manhattan newsies left before addressing the remaining Brooklynites, who were staring at him expectantly.

"Well, what're yeh all starin' at? Git upstairs!" he barked. He watched each newsie personally as they went upstairs to the bunk room. Once the common room was empty, he went to the kitchen. Out of a musty cupboard, he grabbed a small glass and the bottle of whiskey that had been long forgotten in a shadowy corner. Pouring himself a glass, he drank the liquid in one go, barely savoring the burning sensation pleasurably prickling his throat. He prepared himself for the delicate situation upstairs.

Forcing himself to remove his stubby fingers from the glass, he left the kitchen. His footsteps were heavy on the stairs - one, then another, and another, until he reached the landing. He paused again, listening for eavesdroppers. The bunk room door was slightly open, so he ambled over to the door and slammed it shut. There was an audible "ow!" on the other side, but Spot didn't smirk. Now was not the time for that.

Confident everyone was now where they ought to be, he walked down the hall to Zee's room. He could hear bustling, which surprised him. From what he knew, Kate was a conscientious person, so why was she making noise with Zee sleeping right next to her?

He opened the door. Thankfully, Zee was still asleep, but sure enough, there was Kate rushing around the room and packing her few things into a small bag. Spot stood angrily in the doorway.

After shoving a few more things into her bag, Kate looked at him. "What, do you need something?" she asked bitingly.

Spot was unfazed. "Lose the attitude, sweetheart. Yer the one that caused a ruckus down there."

"Oh, do let me apologize, your Highness. I sure didn't mean to spoil your good time," she spat, rolling her eyes.

"Who was she," he asked in his typical way; more of a demand than a question.

Kate looked at him. "My father is sick, Spot. I have to go," she pleaded. "Zee will be fine; she's out of the woods now. It's only a matter of time before she's back to her old self."

Images of Cole glaring at Kate's silhouette in the window flooded his mind. He remembered the party in Queens, and the incident in the park. After such a resounding victory against Queens, Spot couldn't take a chance that Cole wouldn't go after her again. Quickly running ideas through his mind, he knew he couldn't simply accompany her home, as there was no real safety for her there. Cole could and would go wherever he needed. "Sorry ta break it to yeh, sweetheart, but ya ain't."

Kate's eyes narrowed and fists clenched. "Excuse me?"

"Ya hoid me," he said as he turned to leave.

Kate breathed deep and said to Spot's back, "I'm leaving Conlon. There's no way you're going to stop me. So go ahead, be the asshole - it's not going to change my mind."

Spot didn't turn around and said nothing as he closed the door. Going directly to the bunk room, he perused the room for the sleeping boy he was looking for. Boone was awoken from his pleasant sleep by a violent push from the gold tip of Spot's cane. Abruptly sitting up, he saw Spot standing over him.

"What d'ya need, boss?" he asked hazily, rubbing his eyes with his dirty fists.

"Yer gonna make sure she don' leave that room," Spot said to Boone, who tried to hide his yawn. "Now!" he barked, causing Boone to stand up too quickly and knock his forehead into the bunk above him.

Spot left the room as Boone dressed himself, readying for night watch. Once fully dressed, he opened the bunk room door quietly and peered out into the hallway.

"And Boone," Spot's voice called from the staircase. "Yeh bettah not lose her this time."

Boone froze. He should have known Spot knew about her sneaking past him to Manhattan. Not daring to further anger his leader, he simply nodded his head and watched Spot's retreating figure climb the worn stairs.

He walked towards Zee's room and sighed. Making sure Kate could hear him set himself outside the door, he crossed his arms and prepared himself for a long night.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

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><p>Boone unwillingly greeted the rising sun with drooping eyelids. The night had passed painstakingly slowly, and he was about to lose his battle to the sandman.<p>

Boone sat up quickly when he heard Spot's staccato footsteps come down the stairs. "Mornin', boss," he said, trying to perk up his lazy vocal chords.

Spot - completely expressionless - looked at Boone straight on for a second and continued down the stairs. Boone shrugged and resumed his slouched pose next to the door. After a while, the rest of the newsboys woke from their drunken stupor and clamored through the lodging house. Boone had fallen lightly asleep, but the pounding of dozens of feet woke him once again.

"Heya Boone, ain't ya gonna sell taday?" one of the departing asked.

"Nah," he replied. "I got a job ta do taday."

The inquiring boy shrugged and followed the others out the door. Boone crossed his arms and leaned back against the wooden panels. Counting the knots in the wall across from him, Boone allowed himself to wallow in his boredom. As tempted as he was to get up and move around a bit, the fear of Spot Conlon beating him black and blue stopped him before he had even begun.

Just as he started to draw blood from diligently picking his nails, the very door he was guarding opened. "So he got you to chaperone me, huh?" Kate asked, leaning against the door frame.

Boone's eyes widened. "I don' know who yer talkin' 'bout" he said nervously.

"Oh yeah?" she said doubtfully, raising her eyebrows in amusement. "So you tend to skip selling and sit outside rooms all night for the fun of it?"

Boone stared, stunned at her biting sarcasm. This didn't seem like the same girl that came to the lodging house to take care of Zee.

Kate shook her head in annoyance. "Never mind. It's not your fault anyways," she sighed. "Well, don't die of boredom, anyways." Boone indignantly sat up as Kate closed the door after her.

Unsure as to the cause of all the tension in the lodging house, Boone resolved to simply ignore it and go about his tedious business. He had a couple of marbles in his pocket and resolved to play by himself until the boys came home. That plan didn't last very long before Boone felt the pangs of boredom once again. He got up and walked up and down the hallway, careful to make sure Kate didn't sneak out when he wasn't looking.

"Boy," he thought. "Dis is worse than listening ta Trip tell one of 'is awful stories."

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><p>Ever since his conversation with Carrie, Cole had been on edge. Luckily for him, no one in Queens noticed; they were all too busy immersing themselves in their embarrassment to notice his odd behavior. He avoided social interaction, preferring to mull his situation in solitude.<p>

Cole didn't tell anyone about his plan for fear of their reaction. Although the Queens newsies were known for their fighting prowess, Cole wasn't sure they would approve of a planned kidnapping. He spent most of the next day fighting with himself over whether he would follow through with Carrie's wish or not. He didn't have much time to decide, however, as evening was the deadline.

He decided. Following through with Carrie's suggestion to recruit a second, Cole thought of whom he could convince to accompany him. Determined to withhold the nature of the nightly jaunt, Cole decided to take Bram - a dull, but stocky and loyal Queens boy - with him as back up, although he greatly doubted the need for it. Sure, the girl with the honey-colored hair seemed like she could throw a punch, but she would need more than that to go up against him. Years of fighting much stronger and faster newsies would certainly give him the upper hand, he figured.

He found Bram sitting with a few boys at a far table in the Queens common room. Looking around the room - paranoia clear in his eyes - Cole delicately walked over to Bram. He tapped the boy lightly on the shoulder, causing Bram to turn around suspiciously. As he turned, he was surprised to see Cole standing next to him.

"Hey, uh, Bram... Kin I talk ta yeh fer a minute?" Cole asked in a low voice.

Bram turned to his companions in confusion, but ultimately stood up and followed Cole to a solitary corner of the room. Cole explained that he needed Bram to go with him for a project for Madock, but that he shouldn't tell anyone about it. Bram nodded his head as Cole spoke, unsure of Cole's intentions but willing to make the trip nonetheless. They agreed on a time to meet outside the lodging house and went their separate ways; at least temporarily.

Cole went back inside and sat at a table full of raucous newsies. He had never felt more alone.

* * *

><p>Spot had left the lodging house at the usual hour, but instead of selling, he walked briskly to Manhattan. He didn't tell West – or anyone else for that matter – where he was headed; he set off alone but determined.<p>

Although Manhattan certainly wasn't the worst place one could live, Spot always looked upon it with mild disdain. Politicians, businessmen and entertainers all typically housed in the oldest borough of New York, and most of them were careful to avoid the less distinguished boroughs surrounding it. Spot was glad they didn't dare venture onto his territory – _his_ Brooklyn – because they would taint its down-and-out pride.

Musing, Spot focused on Kate. He had hesitated in accepting her offer to watch over Zee because she wasn't one of _them. _He knew practically that one of his own wouldn't have the knowledge or experience to properly take care of Zee, but he didn't want to let someone so foreign into their secretive world. Not from New York, not from the lower class, not like anyone he had ever met before, she posed a threat to his home. Spot had wondered: what would follow her into Brooklyn?

Just as he had feared, it wasn't just the person that burrowed its way into Brooklyn – her lifetime of baggage had settled in as well. He knew he should have kicked her out as soon as he found out who her father was.

Why didn't he?

Maybe it was the unspoken sense of camaraderie – Lord knew they had both had their fair share of hardships – or the fact that she was so eager to help Zee – the secret apple of his eye – maybe it was both or none of the above. The point was, he didn't kick her out, and now he was trying to make sure she didn't leave.

It wasn't that he wanted to keep her from her father, why would he? The true reason he wanted to keep her in Brooklyn was because of Cole. Spot had known too many criminals in his life to not recognize the look of bitterness on a person's face. From the way he attacked Kate at the circus, it was clear he was not happy about being blown off. What really made Spot's skin tingle, however, was the red he saw behind Cole's brown eyes when he saw Kate in the window. Kate had saved Zee, and now Spot had to save her.

No, he corrected himself. He didn't have to - he wanted to.

Arriving in Manhattan, Spot set out to find Jack. As much as he wanted to believe Kate would listen to his request for her to stay in Brooklyn, he knew it was not likely. Now, it was only a question of when she would try to escape. He had been witness to her passionate defense of her father from Spot's initial attack, and the bereft tremble in her voice when she told Spot he was sick. Knowing she had lost her birth father once, he was certain she wouldn't let it happen again.

Spot had seen the dismal headlines when he left Brooklyn that morning. Bad headlines, a slow day – Jack would definitely be at Medda's. As he entered the ostentatiously decorated hall, Spot breathed in the heavy scent of perfume. Normally, floral aromas awoke seductive memories in him, but this time, he was irritated that the scent was something other than a gardenia.

Jack was in the back row of the theater – which was empty, at such an early hour – with his crossed feet resting on the chair in front of him.

"Lazy as usual, I see," Spot called, crossing his arms. "It's a miracle yeh kin even buy yer papers every day."

Jack turned and smirked at his Brooklyn compatriot. "How's it goin' Spotty boy?" he asked coolly as he approached the Brooklyn leader.

Irritated that Jack used his unsolicited nickname, he glared. "Look Jack, I got a problem an' I need yer help."

Jack curiously raised an eyebrow. "Spot Conlon's got a problem? I don' know what's more surprisin', yer problem or yer askin' fer help," he quipped.

Spot scowled immediately. "Are yeh gonna help me or not? I ain't got all day ta entertain yeh."

Jack raised his hands in peace. "Alright, Spot. Whattya need?"

"Remembah that girl yeh saw wit Zee the otha night in Brooklyn?" Jack nodded. "Well, there's a situation an' she's gonna be trying ta get ovah heah."

Jack interrupted. "Try ta come ta Manhattan? What, like escapin'?" Jack asked confusedly.

"I ain't got time ta explain. Jist trust me that she's in a mess," Spot said, clearly irritated. Jack took no notice.

"Well then, Spot, what is it yeh want me ta do?"

"Send out whoever ya gotta, but I need yeh ta keep watch 'round Manhattan fer 'er. You see 'er, don' ask any questions, jist find me. Got it?"

For a moment, Jack didn't move - not the quiver of a lip muscle, nor the imperceptible brush of a hair. Growing impatient, Spot narrowed his eyes.

"You got it, Spot. We see hide or hair of 'er, you'll know 'bout it."

* * *

><p>Spot had spent what was left of the afternoon walking around Brooklyn, visiting places he hadn't been in who-knew-how-long. The Kings County Penitentiary, the Midwood Club, Gravesend Cemetery - all relatively meaningless to him as far as things go, but he had always found walking a good way to sort out his thoughts.<p>

Kicking the pebbles that came his way, Spot had to face the reality of why he wasn't the one sitting outside Kate's door. If he was so worried about her escaping, why didn't he personally make sure she stayed in Brooklyn? The truth was he was unnerved by her. The honey-colored hair, the cowboy camaraderie with Zee, the sad piano song - all conspired to make him _feel_ something. He felt attachment – which was scary enough as it hadn't happened to him before with a woman, except his mother, of course– what bothered him more was that she didn't seem to feel the same attachment to him, let alone anyone else.

Spot shook himself from his reverie. "Git ovah it kid, that's life," he scolded himself. "People come an' go and there ain't nothin' yeh kin do 'bout it."

Darkness folded over Brooklyn as the lamplighters lit the necessary nighttime beacons for passersby.

From a distance away, Spot heard someone running, soles slapping desperately against stones. He turned around.

For the second time in much too short a time, someone was chasing Spot to catch up to him.

It was the one person he didn't want to see.


	16. Chapter 16

Thank you lovely reviewers! I really appreciate your feedback - it gives me motivation to keep writing!

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

* * *

><p>Boone was catching up to him and even in the darkness Spot could see that his face was red from exhaustion while white from fear. Boone knew Spot didn't want to hear what he had to tell him.<p>

He reached Spot in record time, starting his narrative before stopping his feet. "Spot, I don' know how she did it! One minute she was there wit Zee an' the next I don' hear anythin', so I went in an' - "

Spot grabbed Boone's shirt by the collar and nearly lifted him off the cobblestone street. "Yeh bettah git to the point, Boone," he menaced.

"The girl's gone," Boone said immediately. "I went in an' saw Zee asleep an' the window wide open. She's gone."

Spot's grip tightened on Boone's collar. He maintained his characteristic calm, even though Boone could see his hands shaking. "Git Trip to run to Manhattan, I need ta know if they found 'er yet. An' tell West to meet me at the bridge, got it?"

Boone nodded and ran off in search of the boys, while Spot dashed to the Brooklyn Bridge. He had to admit that Boone was either faster than he thought or West had happened to be nearby, because not long after he arrived at the steel giant he saw West rushing to meet him.

Without saying a word to each other, the two ran off towards Manhattan.

"What's goin' on, boss?" West asked as they ran.

"Jist follow me."

* * *

><p>Kate walked calmly through the night streets, savoring the overwhelming sound of solitude. She had decided to take the back streets back to Manhattan, not wanting to run into anyone she knew.<p>

She tried to oppress the nagging feeling of guilt that panged her from not saying goodbye to Zee as she slipped out the bedroom window and scaled silently down the fire escape. She knew the girl had grown attached to her cowboy stories and constant attention, but she hated the lingering sound of goodbyes.

"She'll be fine," Kate reasoned with herself. "Besides, it isn't me she'll miss, just the company. Better I leave now than after she's grown even more attached."

Her shoes clicked pleasantly against the cobblestones, creating a natural rhythm to pass the time during her walk to Manhattan. The air was significantly colder that night than it had been days before. Autumn had come in full force, as was evidenced by the kaleidoscope leaves that littered the streets and buildings. Although during the day the leaves danced lightheartedly from one place to another, now they were immobile, sleeping like the rest of the world.

Kate worried about her father. Was that the right word to use? Truthfully, for the time she had lived with the Abbotts she didn't know whether to call John Abbott "father" or not. Initially, she felt the name betrayed her true father, Wade Sellers. He had died to protect her, not to mention that he had loved her unconditionally during his short life. How could she ever call someone that beloved name again?

As she got to know John Abbott, however, she realized perhaps it was possible. In fact, she sometimes wondered if her father hadn't sent John Abbott to her as a sort of apology for leaving her too soon. John had fulfilled his promise tenfold to love her like a true daughter, providing everything for her, but most importantly, loving her unconditionally like her own father had. Not calling him father felt ungrateful. She remembered the tears shining in John's eyes the first time she called him father – she knew she had made the right choice.

But now, all that was threatening to be taken away, once again.

She was sad to leave Zee. Kate felt it was natural for Zee to remind her so much of her little sister – maybe Molly would have been just like Zee had Kate been able to save her.

Again, the pangs of sadness. Why hadn't she been able to save Molly and her mother? In her mind, she had essentially killed them. That was something she could never outrun, no matter how far she traveled. First her father, then her mother and sister, and now John Abbott. Why did everyone she ever love die in front of her?

Tearing her mind away from the past, she was surprised to realize she would miss Spot, perhaps just as much as Zee. He was brusque, rude and condescending, but he understood her. When he found out about her past, Kate had seen him visibly soften, like he understood everything she had ever done. He understood the pain she had gone through as a kid and the feeling of misfit loneliness she felt now.

And his eyes - the way they could see right into her and make her feel like she wasn't so alone. Spot was one of the few people in the world who knew everything and didn't pity her or look down on her because of it.

Kate knew he understood the feeling. The feeling of never having a real _home._

Spot had listened to her. He was so different from the young men she met every day around the Abbotts. She could feel his vulnerability through his confidence, because it was something she recognized in herself.

If there was one thing she had learned from him, it was to feel attachment again. The only people she had ever really felt attached to were her family and John Abbott. Having a stranger listen to her and not want anything in return was a nice change.

But he couldn't help her now – it was time for her to stand alone, just like she had always done. She hadn't asked for his help because she didn't want to bring him into her fleeting world. Everything she touched had been taken away from her. She couldn't promise she wouldn't end up destroying him too.

A noise. Up until that point, she had been alone on the streets, but suddenly she had a companion. Unwanted, more than likely. She continued walking, not wanting her visitor to know she was aware of his or her presence. Seeing a visible clearing ahead, she made sure to walk towards it.

She tuned her ears to the sounds around her. The slow sound of someone purposefully making their footsteps soft. The quiet brush of fabric between slow moving legs. "So it's a boy, then," Kate thought to herself.

But now she heard two. So he wasn't alone.

Calculatingly, Kate stopped and bent down as if to fix her shoe once she reached the clearing. She wanted to be in control of the situation, and doing something unexpected was just what she needed. She didn't know exactly what was going to happen, but she was ready.

Predictably, the two phantoms could be heard walking rapidly towards her, trying to maintain their discretion while moving in for the kill. She stayed down low, keeping up her charade but ready for the attack. Just as she heard them behind her, she stood up.

Out of the very corner of her eye, she could see that one boy had moved to the left of her and the other to the right. "Just as I thought," she said to herself. "This certainly won't be a social visit."

The boys were close enough. She elbowed the boy on her left in the solar plexus, causing him first to grunt and then to fall back hard on the stone street while the other grabbed her right arm. She felt his grubby fingers grip her upper arm tightly, and she recognized who it was – Cole. She remembered the way he had grabbed her at the circus and realized it was the same meaty hand trying to force her once again. Realizing the severity of the situation, she stepped hard on his instep, causing him to release her from his grasp. Bending her arm upwards, she elbowed his nose as hard as she could muster.

Kate turned around quickly to see the results of her efforts. Cole knelt on the ground, clutching his bleeding nose and whimpering softly. The other boy laid motionless from shock on her other side, eyes staring up at the night sky and hands clutching his stomach.

She looked back at Cole. "This is the second time you've come after me and the second time you've been beat. Leave me the hell alone."

Cole, with his hands still covering his nose, looked up at Kate with watering eyes.

Kate saw something in his eyes. Was it remorse?

It was much too late for that.

* * *

><p>Spot and West crossed Manhattan as quickly as they could. They didn't know exactly how they were going to meet up with Jack, but at the moment they didn't really care. Taking care to look for Kate as they ran, they went the route they assumed she had taken. They ran down the main streets and arrived at Greeley Square, where they found an out-of-breath Jack and Trip.<p>

"Spot!" Jack yelled. "Swifty found 'er, she's ovah – "

"Jist go!" Spot yelled back, chasing after Jack with West close by his side.

In no time at all, they approached a small clearing just outside an alley. Swifty was standing a fair distance away from the scene – it looked like he had found her seconds before.

Kate was standing above two figures. Not caring who they were, Spot ran over to her, leaving the other boys standing silently behind. Hearing footsteps behind her, Kate turned around slowly.

Spot grabbed hold of her arms and looked straight into her eyes. Kate looked back at him, but her eyes had long faded.

Next to the two, Cole tried to stand up, but staggered because of the blurry vision caused by Kate's elbow. Spot was hardly surprised Cole was Kate's attacker. He put his foot on Cole's shoulder and pushed him back down to the ground.

"You stay there. I ain't finished wit yeh yet," he said dangerously. Seeing the violence in Spot's eyes, Cole didn't make a move.

Spot turned back to Kate and put his hands on each side of her face. "Why didn' yeh listen ta me?" he asked gently.

Kate looked at him with tears in her eyes and fell to her knees. Spot saw angry tears glide down her cheeks, but why?

He knelt down next to her.

"I had to see him… He's all I have!" she exclaimed passionately. Then more softly, "Besides, you're not the first person looking out for me that I didn't listen to."

Spot couldn't argue with her second point – he had been known to do the same. But he wasn't going to let her get away so easily. "So that's it? Yeh jist wanted ta leave an' never see us again?" Spot asked. "Zee ain't gonna git ovah that, Kate."

Kate looked up at Spot at the mention of her name. She realized he had never said it outright before. Quickly regaining her wits she explained, "You don't get it, do you? Everyone I've ever loved has died, and now my father is going to die too. I don't want to ruin you and Zee, and I can't promise that I won't somehow." Spot saw a deep sadness and vulnerability in her eyes as she spoke. "I had hoped I would be able to save Zee, since I couldn't save my mother or sister... But if I stay I'm afraid I'll undo everything and hurt both of you."

Spot looked at Kate hard. He offered her his hand and helped her stand up. "Let's git yeh ta yer father, alright?"

Kate nodded gratefully at his words. With his hand on her back, Spot and Kate walked past the downed boys towards Jack and the others. "Deal wit 'em, Jacky," he said with hard eyes regarding the two Queens newsies, to which Jack nodded his assent.

With the stars watching them from above, Spot and Kate set out to finish the journey to Park Avenue.


	17. Chapter 17

This chapter is a bit shorter than the others, but I think it has important information. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

* * *

><p>West had stayed behind with Jack and Swifty, keenly aware that Spot no longer needed nor wanted his company – the look in his eyes as he walked off with Kate made his message very clear. Ready to lay down the law, the three boys went to deal with the two crooks lying in the middle of the street.<p>

Jack grabbed Cole by the collar while West hoisted the unknown Queens newsie up from his fetal position on the ground. Swifty helped them bring the two boys to a bench where they sat them down and stood menacingly in front of them, blocking any attempt at an escape.

"Care ta explain what the hell yeh were plannin' on doin' before a girl kicked the pants offa yeh?" Jack asked mockingly.

"Ain't none a yer business, Kelly," Cole said bitterly, still bleeding from the nose.

"On the contrary. This is most definitely my business, since you goons ain't allowed on my turf," Jack retorted.

"Aw, jist go on an' tell 'im, Cole, or we ain't evah gonna git outta heah," the mystery boy pleaded.

Cole turned his head sharply towards the boy and glared. Sensing the conversation wasn't going anywhere, Jack cuffed Cole in his right ear.

"We ain't got all night, kid. Start talkin' 'fore we hafta take yer teeth out, one by one," Jack threatened.

Cole looked at Jack, doubtful of the force of his threat, but unwilling to take the chance. Although seemingly less dangerous than the Brooklyn newsies, Manhattan had been known to follow through on its threats. "It was nothin', we was jist gonna take 'er back ta Queens."

Jack looked at West in confusion, but West kept his eyes on his target. Out of necessity, Spot had told him about Cole and Kate at the Queens party and to watch out for Cole around Kate. Cole's response didn't make any sense. If this was a personal vendetta, why wouldn't he just take what he wanted and leave her? "Why the hell would yeh take 'er ta Queens?" West asked.

The nameless Queens boy looked at Cole expectantly – after all, Cole hadn't told him the purpose of the plan in the first place. Cole looked nervous to the core; his hands were shaking and his eyes darted around for any refuge he could find. Unable to handle the pressure any longer, he burst out, "Look, it wasn' even my idea! Shoah, I wanted tag it back at 'er for rejectin' me… but it was this girl an' she wanted ta git rid of 'er –"

Grabbing Cole's shoulder, Jack interrupted him. "Stop. Now start from the beginnin'."

Cole looked dejectedly at his audience and hung his head. "All right. Aftah the fight we were all pretty sore at Brooklyn, an' I was still mad at 'er ..."

Cole told the group the whole story from the very beginning just as he had been instructed. The three boys listened carefully, wanting to capture all the details to relate back to Spot. As soon as Cole got to the point where Carrie told him about the Abbott's wealth, the three boys' eyes widened considerably. West wondered if Spot knew about this interesting turn of events and if he did, why he hadn't bothered to inform anyone else. To have someone as high profile as the daughter of a millionaire in the lodging house was reckless, and West wanted answers.

West listened with suspicion as Cole related what "Carrie Morgan" had told him and wondered how she fit into the story. Why would a stranger want to get Kate out of the picture? West was convinced there was more to this Carrie's story and he was going to find out.

"So, does Madock know anythin' 'bout this plan yeh hatched?" Jack asked pointedly. The other boy looked at Cole intensely.

"No, he doesn' know anythin'."

Cole's quiet companion raged at this. "Yeh cow, yeh dragged me inta this an' yeh didn't even have permission?" the boy yelled, getting up from his seat and moving to attack his compatriot.

"Hey, hey! Cool it! Don't be doin' our job, alright?" Jack said to the boy as West and Swifty held him in his place.

"Well," Jack continued after the situation had cooled. "I think it's time we give Madock a visit, don't yeh, West?"

West nodded. "I think yer right, Jack. Madock shoah would be glad ta see these two, I think."

The Queens newsies glared as Jack, Swifty and West arrived at the Queens Lodging House with their two prisoners in tow.

"What the hell is goin' on heah!" Madock shouted from across the room, standing up from his chair. Everyone turned to look.

"Take a walk wit us, Madock. I think yeh'll like this story," West said confidently. Madock, confused by the scene of two of his boys being dragged by the collar, went with Jack and West without protest as Swifty stood in the common room holding the two boys in place.

Jack and West spent fifteen minutes explaining the situation to Madock, who re-entered the lodging house in a fury. Grabbing the two boys out of Swifty's hands, Madock dragged them up the lodging house stairs. They were going to be punished for their crimes – Madock wasn't about to let those two goons ruin Queens's reputation for petty vengeance.

Not interested in seeing the results of Madock's rage, Jack, Swifty and West left the building.

"Well boys, thanks fer yer help. Looks like Spot an' I got some talkin' ta do," West said.

Jack laughed. "I shoah don't envy yeh that. See ya latah, West."

West began his walk back home and reflected on everything that had happened over the last couple weeks. Ever since he came upon Spot with the girl in Manhattan, he saw something Spot didn't want anyone to see – he trusted the girl. West knew Spot never would have let just any girl into the Brooklyn Lodging House, much less to take care of Zee, the apple of his eye. Spot had never trusted anyone outside the Brooklyn newsies, but this girl showed up and it only took him a moment of thought to decide to let her in.

West couldn't capture the whole reason Spot put his trust in her, but he had an idea. She was nice enough, that was for sure, and she took care of Zee like she was personally responsible for the feisty young girl. But that wasn't enough to make Spot change his lifetime policy for outsiders… And now there was this information about her family being the richest in New York. She was definitely a liability in all senses of the word…There had to be something more, something Spot wasn't telling anyone. The terrified look in Boone's eyes when he approached West earlier told him Spot had a stake in the girl; much more than Spot had ever had in any other girl.

"Well, we might nevah know what goes on in Spot's head," West said to himself as he walked alone back to Brooklyn. "But that Emmalee, now, she was nice, an' damn pretty too…"

* * *

><p>Leaving everything that had just happened behind, the Spot and Kate walked together, side by side. Spot matched Kate's slow, thoughtful pace, but both kept their eyes forward. Neither wanted to see the look on the other's face.<p>

"Will you tell Zee goodbye for me?" Kate asked, breaking the silence.

"Shoah," Spot said, shrugging his shoulders. "But she ain't gonna wanna hear it."

Kate didn't reply.

"So how d'ya plan on gettin' in the house this late?" he asked.

"Not sure, they never gave me a key. I guess I'll try to find Emmalee; she's awake sometimes during the night. She has insomnia, I think."

Spot nodded silently next to her. He didn't want to ask her what she would do if her father didn't survive – she was obviously quite distressed as it was.

They arrived at the mansion within minutes. They stood staring at the building for a moment, and then Kate walked around the side to see if there were signs of anyone being awake. Spot followed her a ways behind, noting the intense worry in her step.

To his surprise, Kate bent down and began looking for something, combing her fingers along the ground.

"What the hell are yeh doin' down there? The door's that way," Spot quipped, pointing towards the back door. Kate turned and glared at him.

"I'm not going to knock on the door, smartass; everyone would wake up. I just need to wake Emmalee up."

Lifting a small stone from the ground, Kate hurled it towards the left-hand second story window.

"I sure hope yeh know what yer doin'," Spot said. "'Cause if that ain't Emmalee up there we're goin' straight to the Refuge."

"Stop your whining already," Kate retorted. "I live here, remember? I think I know where Emmalee is."

For a moment, Spot forgot where they were and what they were doing. He smiled at her spunk and then remembered. Yeah, that was definitely something he was going to miss.

Light illuminated the window that had been pelted by the stone. Kate threw another, and it had exactly the effect she wanted – the window opened cautiously, and out peeped Emmalee's bonneted head.

"Miss Abbott, what in the world are you doing down there?" Emmalee called softly.

"I'm back, Emmalee, can you let me in? I don't want anyone to know I'm here," Kate responded.

"Of course, Miss Abbott. I will be down in a moment," Emmalee said, nodding her head in understanding and closing the window.

While Kate was still looking up at the window, Spot asked quietly, "So this is goodbye then?"

Kate hesitated and frowned before she turned to him. "I guess so," she said thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll see you again someday."

"Maybe." Spot stuck out his hand. "Well, thanks fer takin' care 'a Zee. Yeh wasn't so bad ta have 'round aftah all."

Kate stared at his outstretched hand. Without a moment's notice, she wrapped Spot in a forceful hug. Not quite sure what to do, he stood in her embrace with his arm still stretched out. Realizing the thankfulness behind the gesture, he wrapped his arms around her gently and hugged her back.

"Thanks for everything, Spot," she said into the crook of his neck. Spot relished the feel of her honey-colored hair against his face. After a moment more, she unwrapped herself from around him, just as Emmalee opened the back door.

"Psst, Miss Abbott! Come quickly!" she called.

"Take care a yerself, Kate," Spot said as Kate turned towards Emmalee.

Kate faced Spot one last time and smiled genuinely. "Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself," she said with a wink. Then she walked away.

Spot watched the place where she had disappeared until it was clear Emmalee had managed to get her in without waking anyone. After the light in the second story room went out, Spot set off towards home.

Traces of gardenia perfume followed him all the way back to Brooklyn. "Hell," he said to himself. "I'm gonna hafta git rid of this damn shirt."


	18. Chapter 18

Another chapter on the same day? Absolutely! I'm excited because the story is coming to a close in a couple more chapters, so I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

* * *

><p>Spot had returned in the middle of the night to find Zee standing outside his bedroom door with a deadly look on her face. Having already brushed off West's forceful attempt to talk to him, he certainly wasn't in the mood to deal with Zee's temper.<p>

"What d'ya want, kid, I've had a long night."

Zee maintained her glare. "What didya do ta 'er?" she accused.

Spot sighed with impatience. "What the hell d'ya mean, what did I to ta 'er?"

"She's gone, and yeh always chase yer girls off when yeh git bored wit 'em."

"Look, Zee, I didn' –"

"She wasn' yers ta chase off! She was mine!" Zee yelled, bitter tears forming in her brown eyes. Seeing yet another opportunity for Zee to become bitter against the world, Spot thought quickly – he couldn't bear to tell her the truth of why Kate hadn't been there when she awoke.

"Yer right, Zee. I'm sorry," he said as he bent down to her level, putting his hand on her shoulder. "She jist wasn' my type is all. I can't have broads hangin' 'round heah all the time, 'specially since yer cured an' all."

Zee cocked her head at Spot's response. Spot Conlon was apologizing to her? She had seen him do much worse to others, and here he was apologizing to her. She was confused, but not convinced. She threw his hand off her shoulder and said, "I don' know what yer playin' at, but she nevah shoulda left." She marched down the stairs, purposefully making as much noise as she possibly could.

Spot listened until he heard her slam her door shut before he opened his door and lay down exhausted on his own bed. He hoped Zee would blame him more than Kate for her disappearance. With his arms crossed underneath his head, he gazed up at the wood ceiling.

He couldn't avoid thinking, and thinking was the very last thing he wanted to do. So many questions pummeled his brain, demanding answers. For the first time in his life, Spot had met someone who was more broken than he was, so worried about destroying everything good she couldn't enjoy life. As aggravating as her excuse for up and leaving Brooklyn was, he understood. For a girl who had lost everyone in her life, taking risks was not an option.

When it came to Kate, Spot was stumped. Girls didn't leave him; _he_ was the one to grow bored with them and move on. But Kate had left him, and he didn't know how to feel.

Worried, he decided – that's what he felt. He didn't know how to get the one that left – the only one that mattered, as far as he was concerned – back.

* * *

><p>Aggravated at Spot's refusal to listen to him, West woke up the next morning determined to find Carrie Morgan. Cole hadn't known where she lived, so West had no place from which to start. He wished he could ask Kate, but that was out of the question. Firstly, she was busy with her sick father – as he had found out from Cole – and secondly, Spot would be furious. If Spot couldn't – wouldn't, in West's opinion – see her, then no one could. West had lived in Brooklyn long enough to know the unspoken rules.<p>

Remembering his first encounter with Emmalee, he came up with an idea. He walked to Manhattan, searching for the place Kate had first told him to go to find Emmalee and give her the note. There was no time for him to worry about her not being there. Luckily for him, that day Emmalee was to run errands and sure enough, she was at the precise spot at which he had originally found her.

She was purchasing fruits from an old man, examining each piece as she added it to her basket. After slowly approaching her from the left, West coughed quietly to catch her attention. Emmalee turned to him, first with surprise, and then with a glowing smile. "Well, hello again," she said cheerfully.

Thrown off by her warm greeting, West was speechless for a moment. Regaining his composure he said, "Oh, excuse me, miss. I'm sorry ta be sneakin' up on yeh like this, but I've got a question fer yeh."

Emmalee looked at him with curiosity. "Well, what is your question?"

"Yeh wouldn' happen ta know a Carrie Morgan, would yeh?" West asked cautiously. "She would know Kate and the Abbotts, from what I heah."

Emmalee thought for a moment. "Well, I don't know a Carrie Morgan, but Miss Abbott does have a cousin named Carrie."

West's idea clicked. "A cousin, yeh say?"

"Why, yes. Why do you ask?"

"Well, miss, it's like this…" and West told her all about what had happened the night before. West had always prided himself on not being a snitch, but if Kate's own cousin was behind Cole's evil plot, she had to be warned.

Emmalee listened intently as West spoke. During the time she had lived with the Abbotts, she had seen Carrie to be a selfish young woman, and although the plot was unnecessarily vicious, it didn't surprise her that Kate's jealous cousin was behind it.

"What did you say your name was?" Emmalee asked West.

"Oh… uh… well, my name is West," he replied nervously.

"Thank you very much for this information, West," she said. "I best be off to tell Kate, before Carrie finds out she has returned. I do hope someday we should be able to repay your kindness."

She leaned over gently and gave West a kiss on the cheek. "Goodbye, West."

West stood stock still, watching her walk away. He was tempted to put his hand up to where she had kissed him, but didn't want to embarrass himself further. "Jeez," he said to himself. "Manhattan ain't so bad aftah all."

* * *

><p>Emmalee rushed as fast as she could back to the mansion. Of course, she had wondered why Kate had come home at such a late hour last night – not to mention with a boy, and Kate never went out with boys – but she hadn't dared asked. As soon as she had snuck the girl in the house through the back door, she had whisked her up to her father's room. Kate had entered quietly, careful not to wake the sleeping man, and took a seat in an armchair adjacent to her father's bed. Emmalee had left her there to pass the night and when she had gone to check on the two in the morning, she had found Kate asleep in the armchair and John Abbott still asleep in the bed.<p>

Hoping Clara and Carrie Abbott hadn't realized Kate's presence in the mansion yet, she hurried up the stairs to Mr. Abbott's room. Opening the door, she saw that Mr. Abbott was awake and talking quietly with Kate, who was leaning lovingly over his bed and holding his hand tightly.

John saw half of Emmalee's face behind the door and smiled. "I think you have a visitor, dear," he said to Kate, who turned around.

"Ahem… I do apologize for interrupting," Emmalee began, opening the door a smidge more. "Miss Abbott, may I request your presence for a moment?"

Kate nodded and followed Emmalee out of the room. Instantly, Emmalee grabbed the girl's forearm and dragged her down to the kitchen and into the pantry, motioning for silence.

Once Emmalee was certain there was no one around to hear, she began. "Miss Abbott, there is something you should know…" Emmalee told Kate everything West had related to her. Kate remained calm as Emmalee told her of Carrie's participation in the attack, but her brow periodically furrowed in thought. Emmalee finished her tale, looking carefully at Kate for a reaction.

Kate disappointed Emmalee by silently opening the pantry door and walking calmly up the stairs. Emmalee followed behind her at a safe distance, not sure if the girl required her company or not. She assumed Kate was going to return to her father's beside, but realized her error as Kate walked past his room down the hallway. Emmalee gasped as she saw that Kate was going towards her aunt's room.

Clara Abbott was brushing her well coiffed brown hair with her daughter by her side, laughing and gossiping about their new affluent friends when the girl that had plagued her adult life burst into the room. With eyes made of fire, Kate fixated on Carrie and marched straight towards the now-frightened girl, who had stood up from her seat on the brocade couch.

"You're – " Carrie began, not understanding how her cousin had managed to escape the grasp of that boy.

Kate continued marching forward towards Carrie, forcing the girl to back up until her back pressed against the wall. Kate put her arms up against the wall on either side of Carrie's head and piercing the girl's frightened eyes.

"Yeah, I'm here," she said icily. "What, did you think I wouldn't find out about your little plan?"

Carrie was so frightened by this sudden burst of confidence in Kate that she was left speechless.

"Well, I found out, and I swear to you, if you ever try to come between my father and I again, I'll tell him exactly what kind of scum you are," Kate growled. "And next time, I won't be so nice."

Clara awoke from her frightened stupor and stood up to defend her daughter. "Who do you think you are, girl!" she shouted at Carrie's aggressor.

Kate maintained her hold on Carrie and turned towards her aunt. "Don't worry; I have plenty of stories about you too, Aunt Clara. I'm sure Father would love to hear about them."

Clara pursed her lips angrily but remained quiet. Kate continued, addressing both women. "I know you're both out to get the inheritance if Father dies. Go ahead, get him to give it to you, because I don't want it," she snarled. "But I swear, if you hurt him in any way, I will make you wish you had never been born."

Both women stared frightened at Kate; unsure as to if they should believe her. For her whole life, she had submitted herself to their insults, never truly defending herself until that moment. They weren't convinced she wouldn't try to persuade her father to leave her the entire inheritance, but they had no other choice. They could only try to convince him to keep the money in the family, and not in the pockets of an adopted street rat.

Without waiting for a reply, Kate left the room, leaving the two wenches to wallow in their fear.

Kate stood outside her father's room for a moment, breathing deeply to calm herself after the fiasco that had occurred moments before. She opened the door quietly to see if he was asleep.

"Kate, my dear, please come in, I have missed you!" he called weakly from his bed. Kate painfully felt her heart plummet as she saw how pale his face had grown in the moments she had been gone. Was it possible he was slipping away right before her eyes?

"What was it Emmalee needed you for, love?" he asked innocently.

Kate started. "Oh, it was nothing. Just a bit of gossip about the neighbors," she lied.

Her father smiled. "My dear, I'm afraid it's time to have the inevitable conversation." John saw Kate's smile falter. He knew she wasn't looking forward to discussing the near future.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but it has to be discussed," he said lamentably to a visually uncomfortable Kate. "Now, when I'm gone, the finances –"

Kate interrupted him. "Father, I hate to be rude, but I'm not particularly interested in the finances at the moment. I fear your attentions would be better focused on Aunt Clara, as she is the one with a mind for finances."

John smiled at his daughter. "Alright, darling. Let's enjoy our time together." Kate returned his smile.

"So I hear you have not been at home lately," he said slyly. "May I ask what exactly you have been doing?"

Kate's face froze in fear. Who told him? Would he be upset?

John laughed softly. "My dear, I doubt there is a thing in this world you could do that would upset me right now."

Kate relaxed a bit, but began nervously, "Well, the truth is…" and she told him in detail what she had been doing for the past couple weeks. From meeting Spot at the circus – she conveniently left out the incident at the party and the sleepover that followed – to caring for Zee and leaving the lodging house to come home.

He smiled at the right times, laughed at the right places, and made Kate feel glad to be alive. The time passed so pleasantly she almost forgot why she had come home.

"Well, it sure sounds like you've had quite the adventure," he whispered, his eyes beginning to close involuntarily. "I'm terribly sorry, my dear, but I do believe it is time for me to rest."

"Absolutely, Father. If you don't mind, I would like to stay here with you."

"Of course, Kate," he said with a grateful smile on his face. Kate rose and tenderly kissed her father on the forehead. "Good night, Father."


	19. Chapter 19

Thanks to all my readers who have stuck with me this far! We're getting close!

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

* * *

><p>The next week came and went as usual for the Brooklyn newsies. They knew the girl upstairs had left, but her absence did not affect their daily lives. Spot had been unusually solitary as of late; preferring to lock himself up in his room to the company of his subordinates, but unless he was yelling at them, no one paid any particular attention to Spot's eccentricities.<p>

West never did tell Spot what he had learned about Kate's cousin. He knew Emmalee had warned Kate – she did promise, after all, and West had a feeling Emmalee was the kind of girl who kept her promises. He saw how unlike himself Spot had been acting ever since that night, and couldn't justify making the Brooklyn leader worry even more about something he would never admit he had no control over.

Zee continued to ignore both Spot and West. West had tried to convince the girl that he had nothing to do with Kate's disappearance, but she insisted that since he had come home with Spot the night she left, he was somehow to blame. Despite his many attempts at reconciliation, she had made it clear that there was no changing her mind.

The headlines had remained steadily dismal that week, in the newsies' professional opinion – a few house fires caused by an abundance of dry fall leaves floating where they shouldn't be – but nothing for the boys to write home about.

After a dearth of successful business, the boys finally had something to celebrate. That morning, newsies across New York were running amok, buying as many papers as they could to get the news out. Spot meandered out of the lodging house at an unacceptably late hour, lighting the loose cigarette hanging from his lips and tossing the match in a mud puddle. He observed his newsies walking away from the distribution center with unusually large stacks of papers and was annoyed. How had he let himself go so far to the point where he didn't know what was going on with his own newsies?

Spot whistled to a nearby newsie and called him over. He was a newer boy, not quite used to the newsie routine, but he knew to obey when Spot called. "Lemme see that pape, boy," Spot demanded. The boy instantly handed him the paper.

The boy saw Spot's face tense as his eyes passed over the front page headline. The muscles along his jaw line tightened dramatically, to the point where the boy could see every muscle flex in all its glory, standing at salute. The veins above his eyebrows protruded unnaturally, giving him an eerie look the boy had never seen before in his short life. "Somethin' wrong, Spot?" he asked innocently.

Pitching the paper to the ground, Spot walked off without another word. The boy looked after him, befuddled by his leader's sudden behavior, and bent down to pick up the now-soaking paper from the wet ground. As he bent down, he was obliged to read the headline once again; the headline that so inspired the newsies on that day:

**NEW YORK'S RICHEST**** MAN DIES OF TUBERCULOSIS – WHERE WILL HIS FORTUNE GO?**

* * *

><p>He had died at 1:07 am on Sunday morning. John Abbott himself had sent the doctor away earlier that day, knowing what would come was inevitable, even with the help of medicine. Kate had been with him until the last, holding his hand as he took his last ragged breath and closed his fading eyes. He had smiled at her softly, which was her only consolation after a night of emotional torture and severe anguish.<p>

Kate had given her father's body a few precious moments of peace before she had called Emmalee in to inform her. Tears of heartbreak filled the servant's eyes; John Abbott had been the kindest employer she had ever had. No one would ever replace the chasm he left in the world. She had squeezed Kate's arm comfortingly and left the girl to grieve.

She soberly traversed the mansion, informing first the servants and employees of the terrible loss. She left each person in tears, unable to comfort a one of them. At long last, she reached Clara Abbott's room. She knocked on the door quietly, expecting a quick response; she knew Clara had waited anxiously for that moment, the moment when she would finally become head of the household. Emmalee found it sickening that a person would wish to profit from another's death, but she admitted she didn't understand the workings of the wealthy.

Emmalee heard rustling from behind the door and promptly Clara appeared. Her hair was in absolute disarray, but for the first time in her life, she didn't appear to care. "Has it happened?" she asked the servant anxiously.

Emmalee frowned at the woman's clear lack of sympathy, but nodded her head affirmatively. Clara's eyes widened at the news, but Emmalee could see the corners of her mouth lift uncontrollably.

"Oh, how terrible," she said too hastily. "Well, I suppose we must make the arrangements." Clara closed the door quickly without regard for Emmalee's proximity and nearly hit her nose. Emmalee backed away quickly from the flying door and frowned sadly for John Abbott. "How could he ever have lived with that woman?" she asked herself.

Clara was anxious to read John's last will and testament. She was fairly confident that he would leave her the largest sum of his wealth, as she was his only living blood relative and had stayed with him since childhood, but he had never outright discussed his will with her. She liked to think that her brother wouldn't be foolish enough to give the money to a girl who had no experience with finances and would certainly spend the money frivolously, but in reality she wasn't quite sure. All she could do was hope her brother wasn't a fool.

She dressed herself haphazardly in a robe as quickly as she could and rushed down the hall to John's room. Seeing Kate sitting next to his lifeless body, she felt a surge of bile rise up into her throat. She felt disgust seeing that street rat sitting unnaturally next to a bed made of the best Brazilian Rosewood available. How could he ever have taken her in?

"No matter," Clara told herself. "If all goes according to plan, she'll be gone within days."

Kate didn't turn to acknowledge her aunt's presence, which pushed the woman to the brink. "I will call on the lawyer immediately," Clara said to Kate's back. "I want you to know that as soon as all the legal matters are settled, you must find another residence."

"Leave me be, Clara," Kate replied quietly.

"I'm simply warning you, girl," Clara continued, unfazed by the girl's affliction. "John isn't around to coddle you anymore, so you will have to play by my rules."

Kate said nothing. Huffing, Clara stormed out of the room and left Kate with her solitude.

"Call the lawyer!" Clara barked at nearest servant, who cowered under her deadly gaze. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

><p>Spot had walked to the Brooklyn Bridge and was leaning on the railing, staring down at the swirling abyss of water below him. Thinking, feeling, hurting – the three things he hated most in the world and he couldn't stop from doing any of them. Kate's father had died; everything she had feared and wanted so desperately to prevent had finally passed. What had happened three times before in her life had happened again, and there was no way anyone could have stopped it. <em>He<em> had wanted to stop it; he had wanted to make it all go away for her, but he knew he couldn't.

Heavy footsteps to Spot's left announced West's presence. How many times had West snuck up on Spot in the past three weeks? Too many times to count, and Spot was getting tired of people meddling in his business. His knuckles whitened as they tightened their grip on the railing, resisting forcing themselves into West's unassuming cheek.

Turning his head and glaring, Spot saw West standing next to him. "I ain't – " he began, but West didn't let him finish.

"I thought yeh might want this," he murmured, holding out a page from the harrowing publication. Spot removed his right hand with a severely controlled motion and grabbed the paper. West gave him a sympathetic look and walked away, leaving Spot to his abstraction once again.

Spot unfolded the page. It wasn't the front page as he had assumed and feared; it was an insert announcing the date and time of John Abbott's public funeral. To Spot's surprise, it was scheduled to begin in a few short hours. He stood staring at the piece of paper for what seemed to him like hours – ideas, rejections, hopes, fears all running at him full force. Should he go? Would she want to see him? Would he make her feel worse? What if someone sees him there?

Spot folded the paper into a small square and inserted it into his worn pant pocket. He abandoned his post on the bridge. Knowing West would keep the boys in check, he walked away from Brooklyn.

* * *

><p>He arrived at the church just in time. The service was mere seconds from beginning and he was able to hide himself in the very back pew with the rest of the impersonal mourners.<p>

Although the church was the largest in all of New York City, there was not nearly enough space for the amount of people who had arrived for the funeral. Spot was genuinely surprised; not even public figures garnered this much compassion with their deaths. "He musta been a damn good guy," he thought to himself. After the church doors had finally closed, he maneuvered himself through the throngs of people to get a glimpse of the one he had really come to see.

He managed to work his way through the crowd standing to the left of the pews, only to find that Kate was not sitting in the first row as he had imagined. He saw who a woman he assumed was her aunt from what she had told him, but Kate was nowhere to be found. He immediately realized her situation was much more serious than she had made it out to be. She was there – that much he knew – but some familial tension was keeping her from sitting in the front pew.

Frowning, he searched the faces populating each pew until he came upon that familiar honey-colored hair. She was sitting with her head down in a row much too far away from the man she had so dearly loved.

Everything else disappeared for Spot. Movement, faces, words all blended into nothing around her.

As he watched the silent tears fall down her face, he realized that her hair had grown brighter, more vibrant since the last time he had saw her. Golden rays emanated from beneath the now-plain looking honey-colored locks he had always admired. It was as if all the sorrow she felt in those painful moments was absorbed in her tresses, desperately trying to suck the poison out of her body. Her black dress created a contrast against her golden locks so stark he almost couldn't bear it.

Not once during the service did she look up. Likewise, Spot's eyes never left Kate's figure. He didn't realize the service had ended until Kate stood up to exit the haunting edifice and he was forced to acknowledge his surroundings. That woman – Emmalee was her name, he remembered – was there with her and they walked out of the church arm-in-arm.

Spot had to restrain himself from going over to her and comforting her like he wished he could. He wanted desperately to hug her like she had hugged him and make her forget about the epic sadness enveloping her being. He clenched his jaw tightly as he watched her walk out of the church and towards another disappointing chapter in her life.

He froze, but this time he knew why. He knew it would do no good to burden her with his feelings at such an inopportune time – she needed to put herself back together and move on, and she could only do that without distraction. He decided to wait to get her back into his life, just until the time was right.

"Give it a couple weeks, kid," he said to himself after she had long since slinked away from the church. "Don't push it."


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

* * *

><p>Kate sat stone-faced amongst the room full of lawyers, scratching her neck obsessively in a desperate attempt to escape the unease of the environment in which she found herself.<p>

The men in the room - all either standing or sitting around her father's beloved oak desk - were in the process of determining the rightful heir to John Abbott's encompassing fortune. Due to the immense responsibility the heir would be required to exercise with such a great amount of money, one lawyer was assumed to be insufficient to determine the true wishes of the dearly departed.

Clara stood on the opposite side of the room to Kate. She was uncharacteristically picking her nails as she intently watched the commotion created by the group of men. Each man was talking loudly at the group, not caring whether their entreaties were being considered or had fallen on deaf ears. The legal bedlam made Clara's hands bleed.

Kate stopped her scratching to observe her aunt. Besides her bloody nails, Kate noticed that the woman's eyes were straining to see the document the lawyers hovered around and that they widened in paranoia at any sign of disagreement among the group. For the first time in what Kate would define as her second life, she saw her aunt visibly nervous.

Just as Kate had invariably tried to accomplish over the years, once again she endeavored to discover the source of her aunt's nervousness. It was obvious she was anxious about the final heir to her brother's fortune. "But," Kate thought, "what does the money really matter anyways? She would be just as miserable as she is now."

And there it was in its ugly truth. What impacted Kate the most about her aunt's nervousness - which was startling in itself - was the fact that she was nervous because she knew her life would never be what she wanted. No amount of money would satisfy her. Whether her aunt knew the truth or not about her fate, Kate wasn't entirely sure.

She couldn't help but pity the woman. Her entire life Clara had depended on her brother without fostering any kind of affection for him, and now there she was, her future written on the line of one legal document. If John Abbott hadn't awarded her anything before his death, she would have nothing to live on. Even if he had, she would have nothing. Sure, money would buy her food and water and that would last her for a while - but she had no loving memories of her brother to carry her soul through the rest of her miserable life. She had left her future to fate's hands, and Kate knew that fate was hardly kind.

Kate felt lighter. She stopped scratching her angry neck and set her hands in her lap. She realized that s_he_was the lucky one: although she'd never known life without tragedy, she would live the rest of her life knowing love, and those fond memories would get her through the toughest of times that she knew lay ahead.

Kate stood up, unnoticed by anyone in the room. She walked over to her aunt, who turned abruptly, startled by the girl's unanticipated proximity. Closely, Kate observed her aunt's face for emotion. Clara turned hastily away from Kate's face in discomfort and distrust, but the girl held her position nonetheless. She only had to wait a minute for Clara to timidly return her gesture. Overcome with a need to comfort her aunt, Kate bowed her head slightly, forcing the woman to find herself in a motherly position to the girl that she had sworn to make miserable.

Clara was shaking with doubt as she looked down at back of the girl's head and for the first time noticed her honey-colored hair. She had seen Kate every day since John had adopted her, but her bitterness kept her from noticing the girl's illuminated hair. The brightness of Kate's hair attracted Clara's hand, which she put on the crown of the girl's head. Clara lifted her face and focused her eyes on the nothing in front of her. "John," she said quietly; so quietly not even Kate could hear. Her shaking had stopped by the time she lifted her hand from Kate's head.

Kate was the only person in the room to watch as her aunt walked out of the door and out of her life forever.

* * *

><p>Spot had made up his mind at the funeral. He was going to visit Kate, but not yet. He planned to wait exactly two weeks for everything to quiet down around her and as soon as her heart was clear, he would find her. That was his plan and he was going to stick to it. No temptation would force him to make the mistake of telling her his feelings too soon.<p>

"Ey, boss," West called to Spot, who was at his familiar position on the docks atop several crates.

Spot acknowledged West's presence with a nod and a smirk. West climbed a few crates and sat next to his leader. "So what happened?" he asked.

Spot stared ahead. "What d'ya mean, what happened? Nothin' happened."

West looked confused. "Nothin'? Yeh didn' talk ta 'er or nothin'?"

Spot's upper lip curled. "Yeh think I was gonna go talk ta 'er right aftah 'er father died?"

West shrugged. "I 'spose yer right," West agreed. "Well, is that it then?"

"Nah, I'll go see 'er sometime. Zee'd have my hide if I didn't."

West let out a laugh. "Yeah, mine too."

The conversation was over and the boys reverted back to silence. Neither had purchased their papers for the day but were about to hop down from their wooden towers when Trip walked calmly down the docks.

"Whaddya need, Trip?" Spot asked, climbing down.

Trip looked uncomfortably at West, but handed Spot the paper he was carrying nonetheless. "I saw yeh hadn't bought yer papes yet. Thought I'd give yeh a heads-up," he said to a concentrated Spot.

Spot nodded his head in thanks and Trip walked off. West jumped down to join Spot. "What is it, boss?"

"Looks like Kate finally got a bit 'a luck," Spot said as he handed the paper to West.

West read the headline:

**ABBOTT'S DAUGHTER WINS FORTUNE, DONATES TO HOSPITALS**

West read the rest of the article. Apparently, Kate had donated the money in her father's memory to various hospitals around the state of New York, in the hopes of finding a cure for Tuberculosis. There were no direct comments from the girl, which surprised West. He didn't know a single person that wouldn't sell their mother's jewels to get a line in the papes.

"Jeez," West said. "An' she's sharin' it, looks like. Kin yeh imagine? All that money fer yerself. She must be nuts ta git rid of it."

Spot turned his head away from West and furrowed his brow. Recognizing Spot's resistance to comment on the article, West suggested, "Come on, let's get some papes."

West handed the paper back to Spot and the two walked to the Distribution Center. Once they had purchased their papers, they split up; Spot heading towards the city center and West heading towards the border with Manhattan.

Sales were slow that morning for West, but he maintained his upbeat pace as well as he could. By mid-day, his energy was worn and he wanted nothing more than to grab a bite to eat. Crossing into Manhattan territory, West was careful to make known to nearby newsies that he was not selling his papers. He walked through the street vendors until he came upon his favorite bread. Although more expensive than most, the bread filled him up like no other had ever been able to do, so he purchased a loaf with the change in his pocket and took a walk around the periphery of Manhattan.

West stopped to eat his bread, leaning against a stoic lamp post. He watched the people as they walked by: some were chatting, others were eating, but all were mesmerizing him. West quickly forgot his surroundings in his hypnosis, that is, until a light finger tapped him on the shoulder.

Ashamed at his inattentiveness and suspicious of retributive intentions, West grabbed the unsuspecting hand and turned around quickly to see its owner.

Emmalee stood in front of him, frightened by his reflexes and embarrassed at her own indiscretion. Her cheeks grew pink when she saw West's look of confusion.

"Please excuse me, I didn't mean to –" Emmalee began, West still holding her hand in defense.

Realizing the nature of his foe, West quickly shifted her hand in between the both of his. Although he didn't appear it, West was much more observant than anyone gave him credit for. He saw the chewed nails on Emmalee's hand and smiled to himself.

"No," he interrupted the girl. "Don' apologize. I jist wasn' expectin' yeh is all."

Emmalee smiled at the boy's manners. "I'm glad I found you."

West's smiled faded. "Yeh were lookin' fer me?"

Emmalee nodded quietly, still surprised by her cheeky decision to find the boy. "I was worried I would have to cross into Brooklyn, but here you are."

West's smile found its way to his face once more. "Well ain't this nice," he said cheerily. "Yeh wanna go sit in the park?"

Emmalee's smile was answer enough. The two walked farther into Manhattan until they came to a small park, and they sat on a park bench.

Emmalee fidgeted uncomfortably, nervous to be so close to a relatively unknown boy. West put his hands on his knees and rocked slightly back and forth next to the girl, unsure how to begin the conversation.

Emmalee could see the questions written in his eyebrows, but she didn't know how to answer them. "That was very nice of you to help Miss Abbott, you know."

West looked at her. "Ah, so she told yeh 'bout it? It was nothin', jist helpin' out a friend is all." His words surprised him. When did Kate go from being a stranger to a friend? He thought how funny it was that life could change so quickly.

"Well, it was nice anyway. She wanted to find you to tell you herself, but she's a bit preoccupied at the moment."

West nodded knowingly. "I'll bet," he ventured.

Emmalee looked at him surprised and then laughed. "Oh, of course you know! It's been all over the papers."

"Sure has," West said. "Pretty swell she gave it all away to those hospitals. Don' know if I coulda done it."

"Oh, she didn't give it all away to the hospitals," Emmalee said. Her face grew more intent. "That's why I had the time to come find you."

"Whaddya mean?" West asked.

"Well, as soon as they awarded her the money, she gave all the servants enough money to live on… forever probably. None of us will really have to work again."

She stopped to look at West, whose mouth had dropped open.

"It's true!" she insisted.

"But what about 'er aunt? She didn' get anythin'?" West asked.

"You know about her?" Emmalee asked, to which West nodded.

"I heard that Mr. Abbott had left her a menial sum in his will but no one can give it to her. While the lawyers were deliberating, we all saw her leave the house with her daughter, Carrie. We haven't seen her since, so I assume Kate hasn't either."

"She jist up an' left?"

"It would appear so," Emmalee replied. "Although I don't know where she would have gone."

West was looking at the ground thoughtfully. "Kate did alright fer herself, I guess."

Emmalee smiled. "She sure did. It's a shame we won't see her again, but I suppose she has a life to lead."

West's head shot up at Emmalee's comment. "Whaddya mean, yeh won't see 'er again?"

Realizing the limits of West's knowledge, Emmalee told him, "Why, yes. She bought a train ticket back to South Carolina. She's scheduled to leave this evening." Seeing the look on West's face, she asked "You didn't know? She didn't tell you?"

West grabbed Emmalee's hand and pulled her up from the bench. "Come wit me. We gotta tell Spot 'bout this."


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

* * *

><p>Spot managed to avoid West's bad selling luck that morning. People seemed to be vested in Kate's story, and bewildered at her willingness to part with her inheritance.<p>

Spot wasn't surprised she had given the money away. What good would it do her now? She couldn't buy back her family or John Abbott with the money, and it was clear she wasn't the extravagant type by her uncomplaining attitude towards living in a filthy lodging house with dozens of unhygienic boys.

With his papers sold, he decided to take a trip through the labyrinth of his memories. Taking care that no one saw him enter the alley to his abandoned apartment, he climbed the familiar complaining stairs. He stopped and paused when he reached the landing, remembering the last time he had been there.

He had changed since the last visit. Not noticeably, no, but something in his manner had certainly changed. The night he brought Kate to the apartment, he hadn't trusted anyone, not even his boys. Spot knew the dangers of life – both physical and emotional – and he had never found a reason to question his survival tactics.

He found it funny that a girl would make him reconsider the distrust he had always had of others, but Kate did. Of course, she didn't affect him right away, but in seeing her own distrust of people while desperately wanting to belong somewhere, Spot saw himself. He saw his reticence in another, his suspicion in another, and his heart in another. Kate's weariness to trust him, her constant awareness of enemies, and her love of Zee were reflective of his own feelings.

Spot put his hand on the door knob and stopped. Something felt off, out of place. If someone had indeed been there, they had hidden any trace of themselves, as the key was in its rightful place and the door was still on its hinges. Spot opened the door slowly.

As usual, Spot's first response to the scene in front of him was anger, then curiosity. This wasn't the same apartment he had usurped for himself. The dirty sofa had been replaced; although the new sofa was not exorbitant, it was certainly more than a lowly newsie could ever afford. The windows had been cleaned recently, as well as the counters, which threatened to shine with immaculate joy. The floors had been waxed; the nooks and crannies dusted. He opened the cupboards, which were filled with canned food that would last for years.

Spot didn't bother to look for clues as to the intruder. He already knew who it was.

Sitting on the windowsill was a silver locket familiar to him. Spot opened the locket knowingly, but did not expect what he found inside.

Replaced was the picture of Kate's family; no longer was there a father, a mother and a sister. Only one person remained inside the jewelry, and although the picture was in sepia, he could recognize the honey-colored hair that shone back at him.

Overwhelmed and confused by the gift, Spot leaned against the brick wall. Only then did he realize that the locket had been sitting on top of a wrinkled piece of folded paper. Absentmindedly putting the locket around his neck, picked up the paper and unfolded its message.

_Dear Spot,_

_By now I assume you've heard (or more likely, read) the news about my father. I don't want to dwell on his death, but I did want to leave you something. _

_I can already hear you saying, "I don't need your charity," but trust me, cleaning this place up was far from charitable and certainly no easy task. I've learned a lot from everyone in Brooklyn, but especially you and Zee, and I wanted to thank you. Perhaps next time you won't have to sleep against the wall!_

_I've left a small sack of money inside the cupboard on the far left, hoping no one has stolen it yet. __Of course, it's for you to use as you wish, but in case anyone in the lodging house is ever sick again, you should have enough money to call a doctor or two._

_Please tell everyone, but especially Zee, that I send my regards. Thank you, Spot, for showing me… well, everything really. Everything that's worth while, that is._

_Perhaps someday we'll meet again,_

_Kate_

Spot folded the note and delicately placed it in his pocket. He stared out the window, trying to understand Kate's cryptic send-off.

Spot left everything in the apartment as he had found it, including the money. He made sure to put the key on the chain which held the locket for safe keeping. He left the alley at a swift pace, heading towards the Brooklyn Bridge. He was going to send Trip off to find her.

A few steps from the bridge, Spot heard a holler and two pairs of running feet. Turning around, he saw West, to his chagrin, desperately holding on to a girl's hand and pulling her with him. As they came closer, Spot saw it was Emmalee, and his annoyance at West quickly dissipated.

"Spot!" West yelled at a distance. "Yeh gotta get to the train station, stat!"

When Spot's answer was a stone face, West insisted, "She's leavin', Spot!' Goin' back to South Carolina in an hour, yeh gotta go!"

West was now standing in front of Spot, his grip on Emmalee's nail-bitten hand still tight. Spot looked at the girl, who was breathing hard and sweating profusely under her bonnet. "That true?" he asked her.

Catching her breath, Emmalee said, "Yes, it's true. She's leaving in an hour, taking the New York Central Railroad to Virginia and then who knows what. You'll find her at the St. Johns Park Depot if you hurry"

Spot hesitated. Was it because he doubted their tale, or because he was unsure of himself?

West looked at him intently. "Spot, yeh gotta go. Yeh know ya do."

Still, silence. West knew he could say no more to convince his friend, so he waited for Spot's answer. He would never get one out of Spot's mouth, however, because the Brooklyn leader sprinted towards Manhattan like a winning horse at a racetrack.

* * *

><p>Thursday was a slow day for trains in New York. Kate was leaning against the brick building, a bag of belongings across her shoulder and her feet tapping impatiently. She desperately wanted to get on the train and go back to where her life had begun, to visit the graves of her long dead family and restart her life once again.<p>

Kate thought about her life in New York. In a period of two brief months Kate had learned and experienced much more than she ever thought possible. Joy, at seeing Zee's agile recovery. Agony, at her father's untimely death. What Kate felt most of all, however, was guilt. As much as she wanted to return to Brooklyn and forget about it all, where she knew she had two friends waiting for her, she couldn't do it.

"I left," she thought to herself. "And of my own will. How can they ever forgive me for that?"

She pushed herself off of the wall and began pacing the platform, ignoring the looks of the few other passengers waiting for her train. She tried to push Spot and Zee from her mind, but she couldn't. She wanted to focus on her future in South Carolina, but she knew realistically she may not have one. There was no one there to greet her, no one to hold her hand in the hard times and tell her everything was going to end well, no one to pull her up when she fell down. She wondered if going to South Carolina would leave her empty, forcing her to search for a home in other cities, other states, until finally she came to the end of the line.

She shook her head to clear her mind, causing the man standing next to her to look at her suspiciously. She ignored him and tried to focus on the journey ahead of her. She thought of what she would do once on the train. Read, perhaps? Then she backtracked – long hours in a train car, reading the same dime novels she once read to Zee surely wouldn't make her feel better.

Kate stared at the railroad tracks, lost in their hypnotizing symmetry. She was afraid the one person that could stop her from leaving New York behind was…herself. A chilling autumn breeze brought her attention back to the world around her. She watched as the fallen chromatic leaves danced across the wood and metal.

"Kate," she heard softly, and turned to her right.

Grey eyes stared back at her.

Spot was walking slowly towards her, but she could see from the redness in his cheeks that he had been running. He held his hat humbly in his left hand, but other than that small detail he looked just as Kate had always seen him.

Her palms grew sweaty; she worried she would bit her lower lip off if he took one more step closer. Closer he came, and harder she bit her lip.

When he was two steps away from her, he dropped his hat. She looked down at it; absurdly worried he might lose or soil his prized possession.

She was about to say something to him when he took her face in his hands and kissed her. It was a stopthepresses-holdontight-worldspinning kiss, of the likes she had only imagined in her novels. It was so unexpected she wanted to pull away, but her muscles wouldn't let her. She finally let herself go, enjoying the sense of having no control over the moment.

Spot ended the kiss, only to bury his face in her hair.

"Don't go, Kate," he whispered. "Yeh don' have to go."

Spot's plea jarred Kate's rationale. Could it be that she was wrong, that she could belong somewhere?

Her stunned silence spurred him on. "Look, I know yeh've been through a lot wit yer family and John Abbott an' all. I can't promise somethin' won't happen ta me some day, but I swear you won't regret stayin' heah if yeh do."

Kate took Spot's hands in her own, pulling away and lowering her eyes. "But what if I'm the one that leaves? After everything that's happened, I just…I can't promise –"

Spot smiled. He was all too familiar with his own reluctance to promise anything. "Don' promise. Even if yeh leave in the end, it'll have been worth it ta have had yeh 'round fer a while."

Kate opened her mouth but hesitated. "No strings attached? I can leave when I want?"

Spot cocked his left eyebrow. "Trust me, yeh won' wanna leave, but if yeh do, I promise, next time I won' stop yeh."

Kate gave him a half-smile. He took her bag from off her shoulder and moved it to his. "Come on, I know a cowgirl that'll be mighty glad ta see yeh."


	22. Chapter 22

This is it! The very last chapter. I know this certainly wasn't the best story, but I want to say thank you to everyone that has been reading until the end! I hope you enjoyed it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, but I do own my characters.

* * *

><p>Zee pushed through the front door of the lodging house, fully cured and back from her first day selling in weeks. She had purposefully purchased fewer papers than normal to ensure the lodging house would be hers once she finished selling. Sure enough, none of the usual boys were there to greet her as she marched up the stairs to her new room.<p>

Although Spot had tried to permanently transition her from the bunk room to the "sick" room, she refused. She would have been glad to have her own space, but any memory of Kate filled her with rancor, although towards whom she wasn't entirely sure. All she knew was that she didn't want to remember those weeks, so she avoided anything that reminded her of them.

As she reached the top of the staircase, she heard voices. "Damn," she said to herself. "Who the hell could that be?"

She pressed her ear against the bunk room door: nothing. Inching down the hallway, Zee heard the voice grow louder. "Probably one a the boys entertainin' a 'guest'," she thought disgustedly. But no, the closer she got to the sick room the clearer the voice was, and it certainly wasn't whispering promises into the ear of a vagabond boy. Zee opened the sick room door.

Spot was lying on top of the sheets of the bed in which she had once lain, sweating with fever. Both his legs and his arms were crossed as he listened attentively to the person reading an outlaw story out loud next to him.

"Hey, Zee. We were just starting this new book I bought yesterday. Want to join us?" Kate asked.

Zee looked at the two as if they just walked through a wall. She shot an angry look at Spot, who shrugged his shoulders and gave her a blank look.

Kate kept her smile, even as Zee slammed the bedroom door. "I think she took that pretty well," she said to a now-dozing Spot.

"She shoah did," he replied with closed eyes.

* * *

><p>West bounded up the stairs to the first floor of the lodging house, anxious to see if Spot had returned from the train station. Just as he was about to scale the next flight of stairs, he saw Zee slam the sick room door and walk towards him.<p>

"Hey Zee," he called. "Yeh seen Spot?"

Zee walked over to West and punched him hard in the arm.

"Jeez, what was that for?" he asked, rubbing his upper arm.

Zee gave him a subdued smile and said, "Yeh know what for," and walked down the stairs.

Although confused at first, West remembered the direction from which Zee had come from. He walked quietly over to the unoffending door and listened carefully. Hearing two familiar voices, he smiled.

"Looks like 'ole Spotty-boy managed ta pull it off," he said to himself as he followed Zee's trail out of the lodging house. "Pretty damn good, he is. Pretty damn good."

* * *

><p>Kate had continued reading to herself while Spot slept. She finished the tale, thinking to herself at how her life had changed in so short a time.<p>

Kate pulled the blanket hanging off the edge of the bed and pulled it over Spot's sleeping figure. Gently sweeping the hair out of his eyes, she crawled in next to him.

"This might not be so bad after all," she whispered to the air.


End file.
